Dine and Dash

We reserve the time immediately following church on Sunday to be one where all food is calorie-free, fat-free, and health-related advice is temporarily suspended. As such, we typically indulge in breakfast at locations that would otherwise provide heinously unhealthy food laden with trans-fats and grease. Kate typically chooses a great local bakery, where we stuff our faces with our share of weekly carbohydrates in one sitting. If we are feeling more adventurous, we will go to Bob Evans.

Regardless of where we go, Kate has assumed the role of paying for our food. It happened by accident initially and is something she has just continued to do. At both of our Sunday eating establishments, you pay at the counter. This is a job that Kate takes very, very seriously. Almost as seriously as she takes ownership of her vast collection of Polly Pockets.

A couple of weeks ago, we decided to be brave and venture out to IHOP. I’m not sure why that decided like a good idea at the time, but it did. Perhaps because we had been continuously quoting the IHOP line from Two and a Half Men all week (anyone got it? Some TV trivia here!) The service was horrible, we waited forever for our food, and my mind was sore from the entertainment I had to provide to keep Kate semi-well behaved during our wait. When the food arrived, we hastily ate our meal, and handed the Waitress Who Needed to Return Home and Wake-up On The Other Side of the Bed our debit card for payment.

At about this time, Kate moved past impatient and tired to inconsolable and socially unacceptable. It was about six-degrees out and I suddenly realized that we should go out and warm up the car prior to leaving. I enjoy the cold about as much as I enjoy dental-surgery, and I never offer to warm up the car. However, I did a quick mental calculation that involved either freezing my ass off in the car, or sitting the restaurant waiting for the receipt, while trying to contain the she-devil emerging in my child. Nonchalantly, I said, “Hey honey, I’m going to go outside and warm up the car. I’ll meet you out there as soon as you grab the check.”

A few minutes after I got in the car, Craig opened the door and gave me the look. He then proceeded to sigh, mumble and shake his headed, as he proclaimed that last few minutes as the most embarrassing he has had ever. Apparently, after he received the slip from his debit card, he got up to leave and Kate started shrieking, “Daddy, you can’t LEAVE – you need to PAY!” Craig quietly told Kate that he did pay, the waitress had just taken his debit card at the table. “No, you did not pay Daddy. You need to pay before we leave” she wailed at decibels loud enough to encompass the entire restaurant. Again, Craig tried to silence her, when she finished by sobbing, “Then just give them your credit card!”

Is it wrong that I laughed? Okay, I know, but I couldn’t help it. I totally picked the right day to warm up the car, I just didn’t realize how right of a decision that would end up being.

Ladies and gentlemen, perhaps my luck is changing.