Thursday, June 21, 2012
Since it has been hotter than the surface of the sun here lately, I decided not to cook dinner tonight. Christian had a swim lesson. Paul needed a haircut. This means......... dinner at Red Robin. My kids love this place. They sing the theme song and know the menu by heart. So, we march in and get seated in a booth. Maybe it was the heat stroke. Maybe it was the dehydration. But, I forgot to request actual chairs. My kids treat booths like playgrounds, climbing gyms, beds, etc. Christian immediately succumbs to fatigue and flops down like Vivien Leigh suffering from vapors. Sara, shivering because she is so cold, orders a milkshake. And fails to see the irony when she ups her complaining. We order the food and I hope Paul arrives in time to eat his meal before the kids devour it for him. The food arrives before Paul. (Not sure why HIS haircuts take so long....) Christian inhales his macaroni and cheese like it was his last meal. Sara is busily twirling her spaghetti noodles and spraying spaghetti sauce like a scene from Scarface. Christian is now demanding that Sara hand over some of her dinner because he is still hungry. Sharing meals with Sara is very much a one-way street. She had already graciously let him have a (very) little bit of her milkshake. She is done sharing for the night. The waitress arrives before Paul. I ask for a to-go box and the check. Paul arrived. He received the bill, a boxed up burger and 2 tired and fighting kids. And the keys to my car. I ran out of the place like someone yelled "fire" in a crowded theater. And didn't look back.