My dear friends, if I ever tell you that I am going to take all my six kids out for fast food because it will be much easier than cooking....
My complicated order took three people to figure out (and they still got it wrong!). Then, a manager had to come and use a special key on the register before we could pay. Apparently, we had gone over the normal limit. I also had to print, as well as sign my name, on the receipt. I felt kind of like a celebrity, only an un-cool one.
I felt badly for the guy behind me who had to wait so long and then only ordered a coffee.
Things really spiced up after our order was ready.
Guess who spilled three cups of water? The babies? My four year old? No! My seventeen year old son. One of the cups of water started slowly sliding off the tray. He tried to catch it, but missed, and the floor looked like a lake. They had to bring out two buckets. A whole flock of birds could have migrated there for the cold months.
We finally got to the table and I began frantically attempting to dish out french fries and throw nuggets hither and yon.
Meanwhile, Catherine had already eaten several butter packets with a knife. Yummy! Isn't she dressed appropriately for fast food? She really did wear this.
Then someone spilled special sauce all over their new shirt (my son again, Francesca would never waste food).
By the time we got home, I was quite hungry. Of course, I never got a chance to eat.
"We forgot to get dessert!" Isabella piped up.
I tossed them a box of Lucky Charms and let them have at the marshmallows. Now I will be stuck with just the whole grains. Yuck!