Are We Brave Enough?

My six-year old son Alex has his heart set on winning a tiny goldfish in one of the games at the Chinese Community Fair. We are standing in line for more tickets so that he can have yet another try at getting a little plastic ping-pong ball into one of the small, round miniature fish bowls lined up a few feet away. Right in front of us, we see two girls with their mother: they did win a fish, but now they want to exchange it. I steal a brief look at it, and I can see their point. The poor creature is twice smaller then all the others, plus it has the most unflattering coloration—pale, translucent white, with non-descript color spots closer to his puny tail. After a brief hassle, one young woman at the counter gives in, takes the decrepit fish away, and gives them a healthier, brighter, prettier one.

It is a beautiful sunny day in San Francisco, and the Chinese New Year celebration is at its height. I look at all the red lanterns and breathe in delicious smell of food and heavenly incense. We get our tickets and spend the next ten minutes in futile efforts to get the ball in one of the bowls. I try to help Alex, but I actually make things worse—my ball doesn’t even make it to the line of bowls, instead it starts bouncing off the floor with a frustrating plastic hitting concrete sound.

As we waste our last ball, Alex looks so downcast that I have to do my best to hide my own tears. The lady who sold the tickets takes one long look at him and quickly reaches under the counter. She pulls out the unwanted little guy swimming frantically in his plastic bag and hands it to Alex. She says: “Here. You worked so hard, you totally deserve it!”

I hold my breath, not sure how Alex will react. Is it fair? Does it count? Is the fish too ugly? A moment later, I realize that all my fears are unfounded. My son has a big smile on his face, and his eyes are bright with delight and excitement. He shows me his newly acquired treasure: “Mom, look how cute he is! He’s swimming so fast, he must be really scared of all this noise! Let’s take him home right now and make him comfy! His name is Quickie, because he is such a fast swimmer!” I talk Alex into staying at the fair longer, and assure him that his little friend will be safe in mommy’s big purse. All the rest of the afternoon Alex keeps opening my bag to check on Quickie every five minutes.