Dinner with the fru-fru family

Had dinner at a local casual restaurant last night. Casual as in they supply crayons and a kid’s menu with word puzzles. It could have been fast food and I would’ve been thrilled. Let’s hear an Amen for no cooking, no dishes to wash. The trade off is a public outing with the kids and since we were basicly housebound all day – except for the ten minutes they ran in the pouring rain – the kids were indoors lazy all day.Lots of pent up energy waiting to come out.

Great time to go to a sit down restaurant with no Play Place, right?

So all the energy started coming out in the car. The four and seven year old leading the charge. It came out in the restaurant over boneless chicken nibblets that we’re not spicy enough (boo).  And it continued to cause me mild embarassment throughout their chicken fingers and ice cream dessert.

I had the Cowboy Burger, thanks for asking. Why does the bottom of the bun always fall apart? Had to finish it with knife and fork. How un-cowboyish. My British grandfather used to eat pizza with utentils. Odd, those proper British.

We sat in the bar area. I always feel a bit strange sitting four feet from all the bottles of alcohol and the folks drinking it, since we don’t drink (booze: no, various forms of caffeine drinks: yes). New flat screen TVs in the bar area too. Lots of ESPN. Monster trucks on one screen. Bike race on the set behind me. Baseball highlights on the TV over the bar. Some guy pitched a perfect game. Doc and I discussed what entails a “perfect game.” I said no hits, no man on base, foul balls are okay. Hubs said all strike outs. Uh, no. Love you, babe. Love your muscles, but it’s just wrong that I know more baseball than you do (thanks, Dad! thanks, big bro John!)

We survived dinner next to the bar without spilled drinks, no loud cries of “He punched me!” We are improving. Only had to tell the preschooler not to jump on the seat half dozen times.

Then in the car on the way home the fru-fru started. Or is it spelled froo-froo? I started with the first fru-fru comment. A huge house with a brick half wall, shrubbery, and decorations at the end of the driveway. Too much fuss. Too much fru-fru. Well, the Doc and the kids thought it hilarous. The rest of the drive home everything was fru-fru.

The fru-fru trees. Fru-fru church. Fru-fru deer. Fru-fru pond. And so it went.

I’m thinking it was the fru-fru sugar and fru-fru restaurant that sent us into the fru-fru laughter. But what do I know? I’m not even sure how to spell fru-fru.

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