With kids in tow, plus Laura’s Jacob, made our way to meet with friends at the newly-opened (actually, month-old, but new to us) Creperi establishment, its sister-store I had posted about previously.
Had no qualms about the menu offerings and how they would be viewed as far as “violin girl” and hers were concerned. However, “drummer boy” and Marshall, who will now, and in future posts, be referred to as “driver boy” (an expert in pretend backseat and frontseat driving since the age of 5), are the poster children of picky eaters. This means that each new restaurant menu would have to be carefully dissected and re-interpreted, even re-designed, in quick fashion in order to expedite the ordering process. I can not stress enough how much I live for this task.
As it turned out, “drummer boy” made a quick decision, even accepting my adaptation of the Gyro (please, do not say jye-ro; it’s “eeerro”), sans all the toppings and garlic sauce. That’s right, ma’m…just the meat and pita. One down, one to go. “Driver boy” required a different approach. One which is rooted in a delicate dance between two control freaks, namely Kaukab’s daughter and said “driver boy.”
Using my best speech pathologist’s intonation and inflection skills, I was able to present an interesting interpretation of a salmon-filled crepe. I told him that he could omit the salad greens ( he likes them, but in a bowl). “No,” said he. “I like them.” I noted his decision carefully and deliberately; because in my experience, initial decisions tend to be forgotten…disregarded as important evidence to support a prospective argument–the probability of such being very high.
Out came the various food stuffs. Not a peep from the boys. From our table, set four sections behind theirs, I could see their jaws moving, in what appeared to be delightful nashing and laughter abound. I couldn’t believe it. Apparently, I had won them over. No small feat.
Afterwards, some school supplies shopping.
In the parking lot, the car engine ready to go, “driver boy” turns to look my way, and I sense a stinging remark about to push forward. “I’m not going back there ever again!” Kaukab’s daughter is horrified! “What do you mean? I thought you liked salmon.” Driver boy–“I like salmon, but I don’t like all the salad stuff!”
See what I mean?