the cow says ‘boo’

Well, in John-speak cows say boo. Or cows are boos. It’s kind of interchangeable for him. At first we laughed that they were ghost cows, but now we accept that cows just boo in John’s little world.

But for me, cows say, “Eat mor chikn!” As in, go to Chick-fil-A. Ignore your diet! Eat chicken! Actually, CFA has some pretty decent lunch/dinner options for those counting calories, but breakfast not so much…

And that sucks for me, because one of our “family things” is Chick-fil-A every Saturday morning. I love that we have “things” that we can do as a family, that the boys count on. Expect. I know from experience that you can have a full and rich childhood without a bunch of “things” but I also know how happy my boys are when Saturday rolls around. Or Monday night. Or Sunday night. We have things then too.

So every Saturday, the man of the house gets to sleep in (& anyone else that can, does), then we load up – into “daddy vroom” if John gets his way – and drive off. We’ve pretty well settled into ‘our’ orders. And we chow down. I can’t lie, my family’s food always looks a lot better than mine. It’s for the greater good though. :sigh:

Of course, it’s not just the food that’s a draw. The boys LOVE the playground. They’re in there right now while I’m typing this up. I love that they can have a guaranteed energy-ridder, even if it’s rainy. So I’ll happily sit here looking like one of ‘those’ people on my phone.

someone doesn’t like his picture taken while eating

someone else is pretty used to it!