The other day I took my kid to a baseball game. It was the Big Ten tournament, with the University of Michigan spanking the University of Illinois. Michigan went on to spank Purdue as well - twice - winning it all and moving on to the NCAA regionals. It was a great weekend... warm weather, but not too hot, sunshine, a breeze blowing out to left field, and even a couple evening games under the lights. It was a perfect start to a Memorial Day weekend.

Being a decent, patriotic American dad, I gave my kid a few bucks to go get some Cracker Jacks and a Coke. He came back to his seat, and shared some of the Cracker Jacks with me (I raised him right). This was a true American experience: a man and his son eating Cracker Jacks at a baseball game. It was right out of a Norman Rockwell print. Well, almost... the Cracker Jacks were in a bag, rather than the traditional cardboard box I expected, but I guess I can let that go.

As my son worked his way toward the bottom of the box, he started looking for the prize. After all, it says, "SUPRISE INSIDE!" right there on the box.. uh, the bag, I mean.  Would it be a temporary tattoo?  A pencil topper?  A shape-shifter?  A little joke book?  No, it was..... nothing. THERE WAS NO SURPRISE IN MY KID'S CRACKER JACK!  Just think of it: A man, a boy, a baseball game, Crack Jacks, and NO PRIZE. It's just not right.

My kid looked at me and started to cry. OK, I just made that part up. But he did stand up, and announce to the other people around us, "There's no prize in my Cracker Jack!"  A few of the other fans added some comments of their own. I think it was something like, "Sit down!".

My son wasn't finished yet, though.  A few minutes later, along comes the seventh inning stretch. Everybody stands up as the organ (rather, the CD player) leads us into Take Me Out To The Ball Game. After we sang the line, "Buy me some peanuts and Crack Jacks," my son yells out, "WITH NO PRIZE!"

I really hope he's not damaged for life, and I'm doing everything I can to make sure he pulls through this traumatic event. Perhaps taking him to see Field of Dreams yesterday on the big screen at the Michigan Theater will help. I hope he still goes to Little League practice when it starts up next week. Oh, wait, he has to go - I'm the coach.