When Fast (Thankfully) Isn't

Once, while eating a can of spinach, I thought I could do anything!  So I got my Popeye on and took three munchkins to a fast food restaurant all by myself.  First you have to get three midgets across a parking lot, something akin to playing Frogger, but with much higher stakes!  Then you have to decipher who wants what and then how to carry and corral at the same time.  After picking out the green stuff from between my teeth, I decided I rather like the role of Olive Oil instead.  I tell you this just to prove that you can teach an old Granma new tricks...

Last weekend there was a similar opportunity involving three munchkins and fast food.  I grabbed ONE grandboy (and the eldest, at that) and the food desires of the others and off we went in search of Portillos.  For those not from Chicagoland, too bad for you.  If you ever get the chance, try it!  But I digress.

Bryce was a little less than smiling when he got into the car.  His favorite game system, DS, had been denied entry into the vehicle, an unpopular and decidedly unGranma-ly dictate.  Thus the following conversation:

• How's school?    Fine.
• Still practicing violin?  Yeah
• Bet I can get an answer out of you longer than 4 letters - what day is it?  Sat (Game on!)
• What month is it?  Feb
• Bet I can get you to answer with less than 4 letters - how old are you?  Diez

Ok, I lost the bet, but it got us giggling and conversing, so I won the war.

More giggling and goofing around, a couple of bags of food and a root beer for the munchkin and we were off again.  Speaking of goofing around - what happens when you set a Styrofoam cup of root beer on a heated seat?  Nothing.  What happens when a certain smart boy tips the cup just to be sure no hole has melted into the bottom?  Root beer pours out the straw.  Oh (grand)boy.

Our return was greatly anticipated.  And by "our" I mean the french fries.  Greasy goodness divvied up, we moved on to eating.  There were stories to tell, including the one about the root beer.  There were chicken tenders to nibble into guns.  And being ever so versatile, more chicken to become a beard.  My favorite is when you ask Tyler a question he doesn't want to answer, so he doesn't.  And when you point out to him that someone asked him a question, he replies with, "I can't talk with my mouth full," or something like that.  It was hard to tell since his mouth was full...

All in all, our fast food took about an hour and a half to gather and consume.  The nutritional value that fed our bodies would turn the stomach of a dietitian.  But my soul left filled and refreshed.  And no green between my teeth.  Just call me Olive "Granma" Oil!