It was a very nice, very calm evening when I admitted to Bryan that, even though I’ve been living/sleeping/breathing BootCamp, all in the world I’ve been hungry for is Cracker Barrel. Now, I’m going to assume that everyone just KNOWS what Cracker Barrel is.. and that it tends to specialize in plated heart attacks. And they don’t like you eating there when you’re pregnant.
Anyway, I was just HUNGRY for it. And I did really well and just ordered grilled fish and steamed veggies (although I did have two three biscuits and jelly). Tony happily shoved mac and cheese into his pie hole while completely ignoring his chicken, but he did also eat some okra, and so I was fine with the night.
After dinner, we all wandered outside and it was just a GORGEOUS night and Cracker Barrel is known for having a bazillion wooden rocking chairs outside of the restaurant. For some reason, and this NEVER happens, there was NO ONE outside of the place. Nada. At 6:45 on a Saturday night. Totally vacant. Bryan tried to rush us off to the car, but .. I dunno. The sunset was pretty, there was a soft breeze, my child was happy, so all I could say was, “Why are you in a hurry? Let’s just sit.”
Tony immediately found a child’s rocking chair and assigned it his. Then he patted the full size chair next to it, proclaiming “Sit, Daddy”. Then he skipped a chair, and patted the next chair over. “Sit, Momma.” We all sat and Tony sat in his chair and we all rocked for a minute.
I looked down the row at my boys. Bryan, as always, was furrowing his brow in anticipation of some other errand we had to run. Tony was contemplating the next mischief he would get in to.
I motioned to the empty chair between myself and Bryan. “Tony, can I please sit here?”
“NO,” Tony exclaimed. “That’s JACK’S chair.”
Being a parttime parent isn’t hard on only Bryan.