A Note on Not-So-Fast Food

Busy weekend here in WilkeWorld.

A typical conversation with the two-year-old:

"Honey, don't twist Baby Indy's arm, please."

"But I want to touch his arm."

"Yes, dear, but please don't."

"Why?"

"It will hurt him."

"Why?"

"Cause he's little."

"Why?"

Oh, it continues like this until tears begin to cascade out of her in waves. She then demolishes her room and refuses to eat. Ah, the joys of parenthood.

So, the Mrs. has been cooped up here in the house for a good week now and she informed me that we would be going for a drive. She didn't care where we went as long as we went. So we loaded up the monsters and took off.

Everything proceeded along peachily when we decided a treat would be a good topper for the evening. The Mrs. even gave me the green light to pick the place. I chose the burger haven, Sonic, and we cozied up to the drive-in microphone and placed our order--a slushie and an ice cream sundae.

It was Saturday night but the Sonic was relatively unburdened with customers (probably because they knew what awaited us). We chatted for a few minutes and then started to wonder about our food. The minutes ticked by and still no food. We did see the mullet-headed attendee slinking about at various intervals, but he seemed unconcerned about us. 10 minutes became 15 minutes, and I would have left if I didn't want that slushie so much. At roughly the 20 minute mark, the well done steaks would surely have arrived, but still no slushie or sundae. Hold on, nearly 23 minutes after our order was placed, Mullet Boy arrived with said order and in his best monotone voice he exclaimed, "$3.56". No sorries, no apologies, no concern that several other cars left because of non-service. Just "$3.56".

Then the two-year-old cries from the back seat, "I don't want ice cream."

"Why?"