The makings of a prom king

QUICKIE:  Vincenzo to Grandpa: “I have a turtle named Nickschlopps.”
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Thank you for all the love notes yesterday, and sorry if they felt solicited.  It felt really good to get that off my chest (now in a size B!).

So most days I have to eat dinner by 4:00 because I feel so vomity/hearburny after four that I have to leave the room when Kevin so much as gets Vincenzo a milk.  But yesterday I felt well enough to go to the Keg for a baked potato at 5.  A little too early for the happy hour crew, we parked between an Oldsmobile and a Buick Century and joined everyone’s grandparents for a nice supper.

Now here’s a fun “fine dining” activity for any of you who have kids.  Pretend it’s your child’s prom and imagine you are his date.  Once you get over the fact that your prom date took you to the Keg for your special day and that he ordered chicken strips off the children’s menu, ask for a booster seat for him.  He may refuse to sit in it, but at least you get points for being the female equivalent of chivalrous.  When your prom date sticks his finger in the honey mustard sauce, makes a face, and yells, “I DON’T LIKE THIS!” look around to see if any of your friends heard.  Feel relieved that you’re at the Keg and absolutely none of your friends are here.  Try not to notice that your date is sitting on his knees, keeps lying down in the booth, and has eaten salt straight from the shaker.  And when, at the end of the meal your date crawls underneath the table and says he is a turtle and can he please have your shoes, quietly slip out of the booth and ask the waiter if he’s free for the evening.

Now go make a reservation at The Olive Garden, grab your nearest child, head out for dinner, then come back here and tell me how your faux-prom date turned out.

5 thoughts on “The makings of a prom king

  1. I dont know what the problem is because that is exactly what I did with Mom at her prom.
    I think thats when she fell for me!

    Great writing
    Love Dad

  2. Don’t forget the lip sucking in and out pout, heavy breathing/huffing…of your date having hissy, before he slides under the table to cry…again….because you wouldn’t let him box with you at the table.

  3. My date doesn’t crawl under the table. He does, however, keep crawling over the table. Or lying on the table. Or making towers of jam packets or anything else that happens to be on the table. Or screaming “Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! I need to poop!!” at the top of his lungs. Or (my personal favourite) flirting with the waitress while inadvertently putting french fries with ketchup up his nose instead of into his mouth.

    Every outing is a wonderful prom. Yes indeedy.

  4. Sounds delightful. 🙂

    so…I’m not sure where your neck of the woods is….but I have never heard of the KEG, so….maybe not.

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