We live in the sort of small town that hosts a celebration a few times a year. Obviously, a town can’t “host” something. What I mean is, the people of the community plan and throw a party for everyone a couple times a year.
One of those times is during the holiday season, when businesses and community members host a chili and cinnamon roll feed for the entire town.
All citizens are invited, and I am sure that if people from the surrounding counties decided to attend, they wouldn’t be turned away. My relatives from the city can’t believe that everyone in town gets a big bowl of chili, a hot cinnamon roll, and a glass of iced tea for free. Not only that, but Santa comes, a horse and buggy gives families rides through town to look at the lights, and high school students run booths with kids’ games. To top off the evening, there’s a prize drawing for the children. It’s really quite an evening.
When Clementine, who is now seven, was four, we took her to the community party for the first time. Her eyes alighted on the prizes, out on display in all their bright and brand new glory. Immediately, she announced that she was going to ask Santa for the pink and purple pedal car. We assured Clementine, that although Santa was indeed present, and although he was indeed going to ask her what she wanted, he had surely already made her gift since Christmas was only a few days away. She looked at us with the wisdom and certainty that only a spoiled four-year-old can project. She clearly pitied our simply minds.
When it was her turn to sit on Santa’s lap, she pointed to the pink and purple pedal car and said, “I know I asked for a doll in my letter, but I’ve changed my mind, and now I want that.” Santa kindly said, “I’m sure you’ll like what I am bringing you.”
A half hour later, when the drawings for all of the big prizes began, the announcer called, “The winner of the pink and purple pedal car is Clementine Kuchera.” Joel and I looked at each other, astounded, but Clementine only nonchalantly said, “I TOLD you he would give it to me.”
The next year, Clementine decided that she would prefer to have the Harley Davidson tricycle. We had prepared her prior to the party, saying that the same person doesn’t win the biggest prize two years in a row. She was five years old by this time, and ready for reality. Nevertheless, when the announcer called her name for the Harley Davidson tricycle, she didn’t seem shocked.
When she won a huge art set last year, at age six, I experienced a moment of pride when she gave her prize to another child who hadn’t won anything. She did that without prompting. I asked her how she thought of that kind gesture, and she said, “Well, I’ll win again next year, so I figured I might as well.”
And that brings us to this year. As usual, we enjoyed our carriage ride, hot chocolate, cinnamon rolls, and games. I had noticed that the big prize for Clementine’s age group was an e-reader tablet, which I had already purchased for her gift. I thought, “Why am I worried? There is literally no way that her name will get drawn first for the fourth year in a row. There are probably 50 or 60 kids in her age group. Stop worrying! My older kids have been in this drawing longer than she has and they have yet to win a single prize.”
But, I kid you not, her name was drawn first. Again. For the fourth year in a row. Short of telling her that her Christmas gift this year was an e-reader, I couldn’t see any way to tell her not to pick what was clearly the largest gift in her age category. She walked forward, glanced at the e-reader for a long moment, and then chose a sewing kit. Dodged a bullet there!
I’ve made an executive decision about next year’s community party, though. We aren’t going; instead, we’ll pack Clementine up and take her to Las Vegas.
