BK Bonanza

Since Daddy had to do some major, um, test preparation for his doctor's appointment in the morning, we decided to stay out of his hair tonight. It especially seemed unfair to eat dinner in front of him since all he can have is chicken broth and sugar-free jello, so just the three of us set off for Burger King. We got our food and grabbed a table in the play room. There was one other family there, so we pretty much had the place to ourselves. Both kids consumed a respectable amount of their nuggets before succumbing to the playground. They then proceeded to play and play and play some more. Marci made it all the way to the top by herself, and Osten helped her into the helicopter where they both proudly waved to me down below. Coincidentally, we had chatted with an older couple in line ahead of us when we were ordering our food. They are apparently well-known locally for decorating their yard as well as the yards of their two adjoining neighbors for eleven holidays each year. I remember vaguely reading an article about them in the newspaper around Christmas. I kid you not, but after they finished eating, they brought us their address and phone number written down on a french-fry wrapper and insisted that we bring the kids to see their Halloween display or their Thanksgiving display or their Veteran's Day display or their Christmas display or their New Year's display. You get the idea . . .

Anyway, as it turned out, the other woman in the play room lives in the same part of town and has gone to their Christmas light display for the past eight years. She raved about it! Meanwhile, the kids started getting a little rowdy . . . crawling all over the nearby vacant tables . . . why do my little angels always act like such hooligans whenever I'm having a conversation with someone new??!! I swear they have a sixth sense and pick the most inopportune times to try to embarrass me. Luckily, I've developed a thick skin, but I digress . . .

So the husband of this elderly couple was a little on the long-winded side. Actually, they were both pretty chatty. Osten and Marci had heard enough talk about their light displays and they had even tired of the playground and were attempting gymnastics on the vacant tables. (Nice!) I consider myself a pretty experienced gabber, but I could not politely bring the conversation with this man to a close. As he detailed the history of their yard-decorating tradition, I was desperately trying to gather our gear while rounding up the kids and convincing them to put on their shoes when I noticed Osten over by the emergency exit with his hand on the lever. It was like slow-motion as I uttered an urgent "N-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o!!!" at the same time that the high-pitched door alarm pierced the playground. Osten froze and looked at me with a totally stunned look on his face.

I scooped Osten onto my hip and grabbed his sister by the hand. We evacuated to the main part of the restaurant in search of the manager. All eyes were on us, but luckily there were way more people in the drive-thru than dining in on this particular occasion. I opted for the high road and squelched the temptation to tag one of the other kids on the playground with the blame for the fire alarm. (Sometimes being a parent is especially difficult!) We followed the manager back to the play room, where the fire alarm was still screeching incessantly, and she eventually figured out how to turn it off. The peace had only been restored for about a minute before Osten burst into tears and threw himself on the floor. (When he gets embarrassed, it's sometimes a delayed reaction!) The chatty older man kindly helped me explain to him that he wasn't in trouble, that accidents happen and all that jazz, and he finally calmed down. We eventually made a relatively quiet (by comparison) exit to our car and went home to tell Daddy all about our adventures of the evening. Somehow, I think the recounting of our BK Bonanza helped make his test preparation a little easier to swallow! (Punny!!)