Sprinkles

SCARY DAY!

Went to Chick-Fil-A during the lunch hour. Took my five year old. She was chomping at the bit to spend a little time in the germ-infested playroom. I haven’t been there in a really long time.

When we first walked in I noticed the place was packed. It was incredibly loud with little voices reverberating off the walls. There was also a multitude of strange bouncing balls of energy. They were different sizes and shapes and they were bouncing plainly off the floor. I panicked for a second, thinking I had accidentally wound up in Chucky Cheese Hell.

We don’t go there anymore since my son was three and peed inside the tubing six feet off the floor after he refused for three hours to come down. I finally had to squeeze my big, just had the second baby butt, up into the tubing and drag him kicking, screaming and dripping all the way back down...but that's a whole nother Oprah!

Back at Chick-Fil-A, the first thing DD (Darling Daughter) noticed were the ice-cream cones they were handing out. There is also a “Sprinkle” station set up where the little darlings can empty an entire bottle of sugar on top of their ice cream. That’s when I realized the bouncing balls of energy were actually children who were sugared up, high as kite!

I got our meals and found an out of the way table in the corner, while DD skipped off to play in the enclosed glass cage. It’s kind of like watching monkeys at the zoo. You can see them laugh and play, fight and cry but you can’t hear a single sound. I happily began stuffing those fat-free waffle fries in my mouth while I gazed around the room.

Sitting next to me was a table of three mothers. I have no idea how many children they actually had because they only occasionally bounced back to the table at random times. The kids were running around the restaurant, getting their own soda refills, and pouring milk on one another. The mothers never looked at them once. It was a complete free for all.

I looked at the mother who was sitting directly across from me; actually I was staring at her. She never noticed. She was glassy-eyed and fixated on the adult conversation that was happening at her table. That’s when it hit me. In the early stages of motherhood, when the sheer delight at being able to stay home wears off, you realize that watching a six month old in her saucer suck on the little wobbly bee just isn’t very fascinating!

You crave the adult conversation so badly, that when you hit the big PAY DAY and end up in a kid friendly restaurant with not one but TWO other adults who are willing to listen to you, there’s no way in HELL you’re going to pull yourself away unless that kid next to you throws up in your lap; truthfully, maybe not even then.

After DD finished wallowing with the monkeys and ate a few bites of her sandwich she was ready for that ice cream. She’s pretty shy so I have to make her do things on her own. I sent her up to the counter to ask for herself.

You won’t believe this part… seriously, I was floored…

They won’t give you a free ice cream unless you TRADE IN the book they just gave you as a prize in the kid’s meal. They are making kids decide between a book and an ice cream cone with sugar topping! And we wonder why our kids are illiterate! Let me just tell you as a writer and a big reader I was less than pleased when she came back near tears.

There wasn’t any way I was going to make her give up a book for that treat, so I went to the counter to buy her a cone. When I asked for the kid’s cone, the guy tells me, “If she gives back the book she can have it free.” It took everything in me not to jump across the counter and choke the poor sucker.

“Yep, she told me,” I said, “But she doesn’t want to give up the book, so I’ll just buy the cone.”

The place erupted like I had just asked for all the money out of the register. “Did ja hear that? Kid don’t want to give up her book.”

"What? But it’s for a FREE ICE CREAM!”

“I better get the manager.”

I bent down to my DD and asked her, “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go to Dairy Queen?”

“But Mama, I want to do my own sprinkles.”

“We could go to the store, you could have a quart of ice cream and a whole jar of sprinkles to yourself.”

"I just want those sprinkles.”

So, I stuck it out, waited for the manager. Explained to him, she didn’t want to trade in her book for a cone. Told him I just wanted to buy the damn thing. He gave me the roll of the eyes and slight but noticable shake of the head, but he gave her the cone and didn’t charge me. Hallelujah!

Guess what DD said after one lick of the cone?

“Mama, I really don’t like the sprinkles.”