Sunday was a red letter day. D3 and I attended a father-son breakfast sponsored by one of the parishes in our K of C cluster. Every year, they have prizes and every boy walks out with something. This is our second year going, and we had the pleasure of sitting with the same group of guys from last year: Frank, Ronald and respective sons.
You have to buy raffle tickets to win the big prizes, which are the bikes.
Frank's ten year old son Josh has some kind of energy field around him which bends probability in his favor. For the previous four years, he's won a bike. A good kid. Ron's is a nice guy too, but older--about 18 or so.
Anyway, the drawings start and I'm gazing intently at my 18 tickets. Time passes, prizes are doled. Josh gets a 3D kite, a $20 gift card to ToysRUs, and a basketball. Nada at our end, but Dale's holding up well.
Josh walks over and gives Dale the basketball, which Dale thanks him for. Like I said, Josh is a good kid.
The bikes vanish, one by one.
"Now we'll have another drawing for a bike." He reads the numbers. I blink.
Yep--Dale wins a bike! He barely blinks as he gazes at the sleek blue mountain bike. One problem, though no one is complaining: Dale won't be able to ride it for another four years, at least.
So be it--he's delighted.
The drawings continue and Josh wins another couple of things, but his bike streak is broken--to the open relief of Frank.
Near the end, another father walks up and whispers--"Do you think your son would be willing to make a trade?" An eleven year old won a much smaller bike (16 inch wheels) which he isn't going to be able to do much with. "Bring it over and I'll ask," I say.
It's nice--a BMX-like Magna, red and mean looking. And much more likely to be a steed within the next couple of years.
"Dale, would you like to trade yours for this one?"
No hesitation--a dazed nod of delight. A big smile and thanks from the 11 year old. Everybody goes home happy.
Heather has to pick the bike up with the minivan, though, but she's almost as happy as I am.