The Great French Toast Negotiation

notes for later, because i cannot find my notebook right now...

Family road trip: 3 adults (plus or minus adulthood), 1 child, 1 kitten (usually asleep inconveniently) (the kitten plays no role in the action to follow. i just like talking about her because she came with and has been a wonderful traveler and is suffering from the snobbery and intolerance of my sister's cats)

Mindy's Corner Restaurant: Ohio somewhere. on the corner of one street and another, across from a gas station, on the other side of the bridge from the highway.

Round about 12:30pm ET

Mindy's is your run of the mill family run restaurant with a huge dining room, wood tables, paper placemats (with a word search) and meatloaf special for lunch.

9 year Sierra asked if it would be alright to have breakfast for lunch. it is a peculiar thing, having breakfast for some other meal than breakfast. makes the whole day feel decadent somehow, just because you had an omelette for supper. johnsons are all for daily decadence where food is involved, and her request was granted.

she wanted pancakes. i resisted, knowing that pancakes are merely a vehicle for syrup - liquid sugar - more potent than regular coffee, and said no. she wanted french toast. i reminded her that it was just for the syrup.
- I don't always have syrup on my french toast.
- no, sometimes you use sugar, and that's just the same thing.
- okay.

the waitress came by and it was clear that none of us, minus the 9 year old, knew what we wanted, but since the aunt (that's me for those of you not following along) was being stubborn and marginally health concious (mostly of my own). she left us to continue or negotiations.

i countered finally with one scrambled egg, 2 strips of bacon and one piece of white toast with grape jelly (she, like me, doesn't do strawberry jam). negotiating with me is really not a possibility. i decided what she was going to eat, and forewarning was pretty much all that she was getting.

the waitress returned.
- we have finished our negotiations, i said
- alright, so what're you having?
- if i get a slice of french toast, then -
- oh, no, that wasn't it -

we ordered the mostly protein and starch meal for her (tire her out, clog her arteries, make her sleep)

and the little shit just sat there and smirked at me.

when the waitress brought our meals, she handed over the egg and meat and bread saying "here's your french toast" and my neice had the decency and good humor to laugh.

later i will tell you of the Fog of Doom and the Mortification of the Felines, but for now, i have a book that is fucking with my head, and i am happy that almost everyone else is asleep.