The Best Shadchanim Still Have Baby Teeth

Some claim that they (and you) are bound by the rules of the game.
Some pay attention to all the wrong things.
Some are discouraged and jaded by... well, see ProfK's post.
Some simply lack the persistence to see you through all the hang-ups.

Tired of the classic shadchan scene?
Ever notice that kids pose none of those problems?

That's right, ladies and gents, the enterprising youths in your life could be the answer to your prayers.
Fortunately, I am blessed with quite a handful of children in my life. Intelligent, creative, persistent, adorable ones... with plenty of chutzpah. And they have the perfect boy for me... so they say.

The first few shidduchim they suggested had to get turned down for minor technical reasons -- namely, the suitors were either engaged already or waiting to graduate elementary school. But this one! This one is perfect. He knows how to play Sorry and Trouble; surely one can't ask for more.

As they sing his praises, there's a knock at the door. Dad opens it as we listen curiously from the den.
"Oh, hello Mr. Right!"
Not realizing that sound carries both ways, or maybe not caring, my pint-sized shadchan stage-whispers, "THAT'S HIM!!!"
Mr. Right goes on to explain how his hosts for Shabbos seem to have absconded, leaving him stranded for lunch, and Dad welcomes him in. He has unsuspectingly walked into a regular "bashow" (whatever that is.)

The menfolk sit down to talk Torah (ding! 1 point) while the women prepare lunch and the kids wait and watch with bated breath. Dad calls for kiddush and I find myself seated strategically opposite Mr. Right. Well, he doesn't look bad. Of course, as it was Shabbos, the only things we hear from each other for the next fifteen minutes or so are two amens apiece.
After hamotzie, I exit stage right to cut the fish while my dear little friend and aspiring shadchan helps mix a salad as he delicately makes conversation.

"BAS~MELECH, ARE YOU GONNA MARRY MR. RIGHT?"
(The kid should be a head counselor -- he'll never have to worry when the megaphones malfunction.)

Seeing my hesitation (why do the witty comebacks only emerge when it's just too late to work?), his senior partner forges on.
"WELL, AREN'T YOU AT LEAST GONNA GO OUT WITH HIM?"

Thoroughly pink by this time, I make a mental note to catch that kid and give him a little lesson in shidduch etiquette before re-entering the dining room. Meanwhile, I consider asking Mr. Right out for an evening, if only to make the kids shut up.

How's that for effective matchmaking?
Bonus: You don't even have to worry about tipping the shadchan. They'll be happy with a trip out for pizza or something.