“That’s not fair!” Clara said, pointing behind her into the adjacent booth. “Their drawing is so good, but the little girl that was with them was only Gideon’s age!”

I blinked up from my fries. Clara had her arms crossed on her chest and was pouting.

“What?” I asked after considering for several seconds whether I really wanted to know.

“They had their mom draw the picture for the art contest! How am I supposed to compete with that?” She waved her hand at her paper place mat where she had drawn something in Crayon resembling a purple flower with an orange stem.

I quietly ate a french fry and let my brain work out what was going on. “I think you are not understanding what is happening here. The kid’s menu thing isn’t an art competition, it’s a drawing.”

Her shoulders slumped a few inches, but her arms remained crossed. “Uh. That doesn’t make any sense, Dad. What’s the difference between art and drawing?”

“There are no judges. They aren’t picking the best one. They are just going to pick one randomly and that one wins.”

She recoiled in disgust, “That doesn’t make any sense at all. Why did we even bother drawing anything then?”

I reached for another french fry but discovered they were all gone. I sighed. “Just… wipe the ketchup off the corner and put your name on it so we can give it to the waitress.” I quickly moved a glass of water that was about to get spilled across the table. “Anyway, your flower is much better than that lady’s picture.”

Clara handed the place mat across the table with ketchup still smeared along the one edge. “Actually, it’s a fish. But apparently, it doesn’t matter because I’m still going to win the $250 dollars.”