And Then There Was Lunch
For some reason, small children such as mine eat lunch at school around 11:00 am these days. Although I have tried to readjust their schedules this summer, they get up and eat breakfast so early that they usually can only wait until 11:30 at the absolute latest for lunch.
By the time we had reached the Phillips on Friday, the kiddies were already teetering on the brink of starvation, and still I force fed them the culture before I would feed them lunch. All of this time on the beach has made them think that I always have peeled carrots and sliced watermelon with me. I thought that since I was not carrying the cooler, it would be clear to them that I had no snacks available, but apparently they thought I might have produce in my pockets.
In hopes of salvaging their normally happy-go-lucky personas, Erin and I ducked into the nearest place (well, the nearest place that had beer) we could find for lunch. Since DC is abandoned in August, we weren’t too concerned that we’d be disturbing anyone and our waiter was very nice and even produced a children’s menu (which we hadn’t asked for since we didn’t think they had one). We got one order of chicken, one grilled cheese sandwich, one hot dog, two orange juices, and a water. A perfect kiddie lunch trifecta, no?
No.
Lauren: My chicken tastes like wine. (When did she have wine? I have no idea.)
Marty: My grilled cheese is too crunchy. (By crunchy he must have meant perfectly toasted)
Aislinn: My hot dog is burned. (I think by burned she meant grilled to perfection)
Lauren: My orange juice tastes like it has orange peel in it. (Freshly squeezed)
Aislinn: Lauren keeps drinking my water. (I think they’ll give us more if you share)
Marty: That orange juice is too orange juicy. (Uncle)
Erin and I both agreed that we would have happily eaten any of the lunches sitting in front of the kiddies – the food looked that good.
Fortunately they all ate enough French fries (and we had enough Bud Light) to restore good humor to the group. Since Erin spends all of her days attempting to be patient with children who are plucking her every last nerve, if the kiddies hadn’t bounced back she probably would have disappeared into the American History museum, hightailed it out the back door, and run home or to the nearest taproom.
Luckily, for the rest of the day, they were the kind of kids that I like to have around. Marty even took a nap in the shabby uncomfortable umbrella stroller and no one complained about having to walk past Erin’s apartment and all the way into the zoo to get a snow cone.
By the time we had reached the Phillips on Friday, the kiddies were already teetering on the brink of starvation, and still I force fed them the culture before I would feed them lunch. All of this time on the beach has made them think that I always have peeled carrots and sliced watermelon with me. I thought that since I was not carrying the cooler, it would be clear to them that I had no snacks available, but apparently they thought I might have produce in my pockets.
In hopes of salvaging their normally happy-go-lucky personas, Erin and I ducked into the nearest place (well, the nearest place that had beer) we could find for lunch. Since DC is abandoned in August, we weren’t too concerned that we’d be disturbing anyone and our waiter was very nice and even produced a children’s menu (which we hadn’t asked for since we didn’t think they had one). We got one order of chicken, one grilled cheese sandwich, one hot dog, two orange juices, and a water. A perfect kiddie lunch trifecta, no?
No.
Lauren: My chicken tastes like wine. (When did she have wine? I have no idea.)
Marty: My grilled cheese is too crunchy. (By crunchy he must have meant perfectly toasted)
Aislinn: My hot dog is burned. (I think by burned she meant grilled to perfection)
Lauren: My orange juice tastes like it has orange peel in it. (Freshly squeezed)
Aislinn: Lauren keeps drinking my water. (I think they’ll give us more if you share)
Marty: That orange juice is too orange juicy. (Uncle)
Erin and I both agreed that we would have happily eaten any of the lunches sitting in front of the kiddies – the food looked that good.
Fortunately they all ate enough French fries (and we had enough Bud Light) to restore good humor to the group. Since Erin spends all of her days attempting to be patient with children who are plucking her every last nerve, if the kiddies hadn’t bounced back she probably would have disappeared into the American History museum, hightailed it out the back door, and run home or to the nearest taproom.
Luckily, for the rest of the day, they were the kind of kids that I like to have around. Marty even took a nap in the shabby uncomfortable umbrella stroller and no one complained about having to walk past Erin’s apartment and all the way into the zoo to get a snow cone.
posted by Shannon at 10:49 PM
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