My dad has a 1953 Studebaker so he is all about showing it off. Our local IHOP hosts classic car shows on Saturday nights from Spring through Fall (weather permitting) and this weekend was the first of the year. It was quite a shin-dig, with bounce houses and music and free sno-cones and a Cookie-Lee jewelry booth, so my parents took Alison there on a “date”. She enjoyed a grape sno-cone before dinner, a cherry sno-cone after, and made several new friends inside the bounce house. She also stalked “Charlie” the chocolate chip pancake, who, for the record, does NOT pee outside, even though he’s a boy.
Blythe and I met them for dinner (is it still called dinner if you eat breakfast? Alison doesn’t think so) but didn’t stick around for the festivities. What I want to know is how they can bring all the grown folks their food and make a small child wait, plate-less, for an extra 15 minutes. And seriously, pancakes? Should be the easiest, quickest thing to make. I mean, for The International House of Pancakes, anyway. I’m just sayin’. While Alison WAITED for her food, she managed to poke a hole in the styrofoam cup they brought her milk in. The hole was about a half inch from the bottom, and so it spilled all over the table, which led right to her LAP. She wanted me to drive home and get her some dry pants, but I was not about to do that 40 minute round-trip drive. I know, I’m the worst mom ever – but wait, it gets worse. She was sitting across the table from me, so I didn’t see the damage until she came over to give me a hug good-bye. I tried my very, very best not to laugh at my poor girl, but she looked just like she had peed her pants. A LOT. So yes, people, I laughed and made her wear those pants for the rest of the night. NOW you can call me the worst mother ever.
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