All Bets Are On...the Stuffed Animals

Forget everything you may have heard about the legal gambling age being 21. Where we spent our vacation, even the youngest kids could place their bets and take their chances. As a matter of fact, it was encouraged.

Of course, the resort town's governing body might have a problem with that statement, but didn't seem to have a problem lining the boardwalk with row after row of stuffed animals and kid-themed prizes at their multiple Deceptive Gambling Stands of Torture.

It starts early in the day. You're on the beach attempting to read while simultaneously counting your kids' heads every five seconds. Growing bored of jumping waves and building sand castles after all of about 10 minutes, one of your offspring (let's call him The Addict) tells you his intentions of winning a coveted item on the boardwalk that evening.

You know, because it's not enough that you'll blow a good $100 on ride tickets.

You try to dismiss him with a vague "We'll see," but he's already memorized where the stand is, what it costs to play ("Only 50 cents per try!"), and could quite possibly provide blueprints of where you need to park and walk up to get him to his kiddie crack house of choice. Just make a left at the Ferris Wheel and walk southeast toward the Scrambler, Mom.

He'll remind you of his determination to win several more times, including at lunch and dinner, while you take your shower and while you try to read by the pool. (Seriously, why did you even bother bringing a book on a vacation? Did you really think it was going to be any different than your unsuccessful attempts to read at home?)

As your sandals clunk along the wooden boards that night, you can only wonder which stands will be the lucky ones to receive the mortgage payment's worth of cash necessary to support your child's gambling habits. Plus, if The Addict succeeds in winning something, you'll feel obligated to keep spending money until each of your kids has a prize.

It's usually wise to save the "You Win Some, You Lose Some" lesson for another day because vacations are supposed to be relaxing. Tantrums tend to thwart that. Ask your husband to signal you when or if said relaxing ever begins.

There are giant wheels of chance for your kids to place their bets on simple 3 letter words like "dad" and "cat" (more proof these are clearly designed to encourage kid gambling).  Here, you only need the spinner to land on one of the 2,157 words to win "Choice!"

As long as it's also on the correct corresponding color space. A red "mom" for the win. A blue "mom" loses. Who knew the boardwalk could be poetic?

There are so many blinding, blinking lights, you can barely see the arrow. Yet you find yourself shouting, "C'mon, Flo! Flo, Flo, Flo...Flooooo!!!!!! Ooooooooh no....oh, Flo" when you really mean a different word that starts with F as you've just lost another five bucks.

One stand beckons your offspring ("Kids get an extra try!") to shoot round basketballs into oval hoops. Oh, they don't look oval from the front, but take a gander from the side, and you'll see the blatant non-circular truth. Explaining this to your little Lebron James goes over about as well as you suggesting you'll take him to a store and BUY him the stuffed Angry Bird for far less than the price of gambling for one three times smaller.

Another favorite is balloon popping for prizes. That's right, after you've spent the previous 364 days of the year preaching the danger of eyes coming into contact with sharp objects, somebody's placing spear-like darts into the hand of your five year-old.

And encouraging her to THROW them.

The next stand requires your kids to skip coins across glass cake pedestals. As long as it finishes up on a platter, you win......a ticket. A ticket that must be combined with at least five more tickets if your child wishes to win a stuffed animal greater than one inch tall. It's the one he absolutely has to have, despite the fact you can barely open his bedroom door at home due to the sea of furry friends on the floor.

Then there's the crane game at the arcade, where small objects are trapped inside a glass cage and your child's job is to steer and lower the crane, open its jaws, seize the object of desire and carry it to safety. The only problem is you've seen dollar store salad tongs with better grasping ability.

Just give him two more quarters, he begs. He knows he can get it this time.

But at some point, most likely when you've spent about $175 to win $4 worth of prizes, each child goes back to the hotel with a small trinket. As you kiss them goodnight, you can see their eyes are already wild with anticipation for tomorrow night's Gamble Fest. 

You climb into bed thinking how you can quit this anytime. You'll be stronger and stop giving into your kids' ridiculous pursuits to win complete crap. Tomorrow night, you'll just say no.

Even you don't believe you. Fall asleep on the book you're now too tired to read.

Actual Time Spent Gambling for Stuffed Animals:  2 1/2 hours
Real Feel:  5 hours
Number of Stuffed Animals Accompanying You Home from Vacation: 14
Quality of Said Prizes:  Poor enough that they leak white beads all over the car.

TALK TO ME:  Do you ever find yourself financing a kid's gambling habit like this? Tips for where to store 80,000 stuffed animals are also encouraged.