Friday, June 09, 2006
All I Need To Know About Breakfast, I Learned From A Six-Year-Old
I had a slow morning a couple of days ago, so I volunteered to drop Ladybug off at her day care. She got herself all together and, as usual, looked so cute you wanna just grab her and hug her. I thought we could hang out for a while. I would work a couple of hours in my office while she drew, wrote, read books or otherwise occupied herself. No such luck. The kid has never had an unexpressed thought. She yammered constantly about every little thing that entered her six-year-old brain. Endlessly entertaining, but counter productive when you're trying to work. The major theme?
I'm hu-u-u-ngry, Papa!
I'm the Will Rogers of breakfast. I never met an egg I didn't like. Man, I LOVE over easy! So, I put my work away and we decided to head out. I noticed she was carrying a stuffed animal under her arm as we headed for the door.
You gonna take that bear with you?
(Exasperated eye roll) "It's not a bear. It's a dog."
Hard to tell when it's wearing a dress. You gonna take that dog with you?
"Yep."
What if you leave it at Miss Brenda's?
"Then after three days it'll be OK just like the giraffe."
Oh. Of course. I see. What language was that?
Later, I saw the bear/dog's outfit lying on my floorboard. "He's too small for the dress."
Whatever you say, kiddo.
"Where we goin', Papa?"
Denny's. Man, I LOVE Denny's breakfast.
"E-e-e-eoooo! Can we go to McDonald's?"
I don't have to tell you the answer to her question. So, we arrived at McDonald's, and I gave her the grandfather/grandchild breakfast preamble:
You can get whatever you want, but you need to eat it. I know how you are. You tell me you're hungry, then you take two bites and say "I'm done."
Not today. I'm starrrrving!
I learned that day that you can order off the menu at McDonald's. Well, if you're an endlessly adorable six-year-old, anyway.
"I want pancakes and sausage."
I don't see that on the giant illuminated plastic menu, 'Bug.
Guy at the counter says, "Not a problem."
Cool. I'll have a "three".
When were menus reduced to numbers? It was an egg and sausage biscuit, hashbrowns, and a cup of coffee.
Man, I LOVE hashbrowns!
So I went over to get cream for my coffee, and when I came back, Ladybug was chomping away on my hashbrowns. You gotta be quick around this kid. She started unwrapping her straw, and I decided it was time for a little grandfatherly training. I took the straw from her, pulled the wrapper back a little, and told her to blow into the end and watch the wrapper fly. She took the straw, peeled the wrapper the rest of the way off, laid it on the table, and shook her head as though to say I can't believe my grandfather is so lame.
We ate between rounds of a rousing game of "Rock, Scissors, Paper." She handed me my ass. The kid could turn professional soon.
She munched through part of my hashbrowns, part of her sausage, and two bites of pancake.
I'm done.
Sheesh. I can't win. We finished up, got back in the car, and headed to Tempe. I tuned my Sirius to Radio Margaritaville. As soon as I did, I heard the opening strains of The Captain and the Kid. Is that perfect or what? From the back seat, I heard:
Hey! It's Jimmy Buffett!
Man, I LOVE this kid!
|
I'm hu-u-u-ngry, Papa!
I'm the Will Rogers of breakfast. I never met an egg I didn't like. Man, I LOVE over easy! So, I put my work away and we decided to head out. I noticed she was carrying a stuffed animal under her arm as we headed for the door.
You gonna take that bear with you?
(Exasperated eye roll) "It's not a bear. It's a dog."
Hard to tell when it's wearing a dress. You gonna take that dog with you?
"Yep."
What if you leave it at Miss Brenda's?
"Then after three days it'll be OK just like the giraffe."
Oh. Of course. I see. What language was that?
Later, I saw the bear/dog's outfit lying on my floorboard. "He's too small for the dress."
Whatever you say, kiddo.
"Where we goin', Papa?"
Denny's. Man, I LOVE Denny's breakfast.
"E-e-e-eoooo! Can we go to McDonald's?"
I don't have to tell you the answer to her question. So, we arrived at McDonald's, and I gave her the grandfather/grandchild breakfast preamble:
You can get whatever you want, but you need to eat it. I know how you are. You tell me you're hungry, then you take two bites and say "I'm done."
Not today. I'm starrrrving!
I learned that day that you can order off the menu at McDonald's. Well, if you're an endlessly adorable six-year-old, anyway.
"I want pancakes and sausage."
I don't see that on the giant illuminated plastic menu, 'Bug.
Guy at the counter says, "Not a problem."
Cool. I'll have a "three".
When were menus reduced to numbers? It was an egg and sausage biscuit, hashbrowns, and a cup of coffee.
Man, I LOVE hashbrowns!
So I went over to get cream for my coffee, and when I came back, Ladybug was chomping away on my hashbrowns. You gotta be quick around this kid. She started unwrapping her straw, and I decided it was time for a little grandfatherly training. I took the straw from her, pulled the wrapper back a little, and told her to blow into the end and watch the wrapper fly. She took the straw, peeled the wrapper the rest of the way off, laid it on the table, and shook her head as though to say I can't believe my grandfather is so lame.
We ate between rounds of a rousing game of "Rock, Scissors, Paper." She handed me my ass. The kid could turn professional soon.
She munched through part of my hashbrowns, part of her sausage, and two bites of pancake.
I'm done.
Sheesh. I can't win. We finished up, got back in the car, and headed to Tempe. I tuned my Sirius to Radio Margaritaville. As soon as I did, I heard the opening strains of The Captain and the Kid. Is that perfect or what? From the back seat, I heard:
Hey! It's Jimmy Buffett!
Man, I LOVE this kid!
