Bowling Allie

The time it takes you to ready this paragraph 41 times will be about the same amount of time it takes for a bowling ball released from the hands of a 5-year-old to reach the pins.
I learned this the other day when I took my daughter bowling. My wife has developed an incredibly intricate system of rewards for good behavior, and let Allie pick out some of the big scores she was working toward. I was pleased that one thing she wanted to earn was a bowling trip with Daddy. (She also wanted to earn “a trip to Daddy’s work to get Skittles,” but I think that shows more of an affinity to the snack machine.)
My wife and I have always tried to make sure we both made time for the kids individually as well as together, so that they can get some one-on-one time. (In the long-run, I think I will have the advantage, because you try and get a 15-year-old boy to spend a mommy-son day.)
So after several days of stellar behavior (good bedtimes, cleaning up, not packaging and mailing her brother), she earned the bowling trip.
So Allie and I headed off to the great bowling adventure. I told her that we would not only bowl, but get lunch at the bowling alley as well. Grilled cheese, she said, not even needing a menu. Focus. Pure focus.
We entered the alley and found that it was jam packed. Lots of kids. Lots of balloons. Lots of gift bags. Lots of squealing. Lots of slow-moving bowling balls.
We waited in line behind a gaggle of kids and approached the counter. “Got a lane for two?” I asked.
“Which party are you with?”
“Just us,” I said.
He picked up a clipboard. “Wow...” he glanced back up at us. “It’s probably gonna be about three hours until I get a lane. I’m booked solid on parties.”
At this point, I had a decision to make. I could tell Allie that there was no room, and we would have to bowl another day, or I could go against everything I teach my children and say, “I’m sorry, I meant to say we we’re with THAT party.”
Knowing I had to do the right thing, I turned to the man and said, “Here’s $50. Make it happen, chief.”
Kidding. I wouldn’t have given him more than $20.
Actually, I turned to Allie and said, “Sweetie, there’s a lot of birthday parties here, and I’m afraid there isn’t room here for us.” I kinda nodded back to the guy behind the counter so her potential disappointment would be with him, and she could bring him up 20 years from now in therapy.
I watched her reaction, waiting for the waterworks. Or perhaps a tantrum. Or perhaps just a sad, hangdog look and subsequent shuffling of the feet.
“Daddy, what about the other bowling alley?”
Focus. Pure focus.
In no time, we were at the other bowling alley, and there was ample room for us there. The first order of business was shoes. The man behind the counter asked me what size shoes she needed. “Uh, 5-year-old girl size?” At that point I realized I have no idea what size shoes my kids wear. Perhaps I should know this, but my mother has always been the “Shoe Grandma,” meaning she takes the kids to get shoes all the time. I can only tell you when kids’ shoes are too small. Generally, that is when they scream when you try to get them on.
Eventually, we got the shoes squared away and were ready to roll. Allie headed to the line with her bright orange six-pound ball. Taking the standard stance of a kid bowling, she stood facing the pins, feet shoulder-width apart. Grasping the ball with two hands, she bent over and rocked the ball a couple of times, bringing the ball back between her legs for the final push. And at that point, the ball got wrapped in her dress and sent her stumbling back and the ball clunking to the ground. We realized we needed to do some quick-change dress modification, lest she knock herself down on future throws. Dress out of the way, she launched her first roll. As the ball approached the pins, I went and got us a couple of drinks, did my taxes, watched the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy, etc. Eventually the ball reached the pins. I was somewhat expecting it just to come to rest against the head pin. Instead, it gently nudge the pin over, which was kind enough to create a domino-effect and take out six of its friends.
We ended up bowling two games, and despite the length of time for each game, we had a blast. Since there was not a restaurant at this alley, Allie even conned me into taking her to Chick-Fil-A afterwards, which is like Ruth’s Chris Steak House to a 5-year-old. I was glad that Allie chose me as a reward, and can’t wait to do it again soon. Even if she opts for other rewards, I’ll come out on top in the end. Let’s see Mr. Snack Machine take her to Chick-Fil-A.