Monday nights at our place are run-around nights. We have multiple kids, in multiple classes at the ballet and drama school. As a consequence, the youngest ballerinas get dropped there at 4:15pm and picked up at 6:45PM, while the older dancers have a 6:30PM to 9:00PM class. At least, that's how it was in my mind.
This would mean that the driver (me), would need to drop kids at 6:30, and then find something to do for fifteen minutes.
It would not be enough time to run home, and there is no nearby place that sells adult beverages, so the obvious solution was a dud.
There is, however, a Chic-Fil-A in the same strip mall, so clearly, a vanilla shake and small fries was a candidate solution. In a flash I was at the checkout window, and picking up the goodies, when my phone rang.
It was Alicia, my thirteen year old, saying "Dad! You left the little girls behind!"
Me: "Uh... I thought they were 6:45?"
Alicia: "No. 6:00."
Me: (silently) "Crap"
(out loud) "Ok, I'll be there in a minute."
As I pulled up at the dance studio, the three ballerinas rushed the car, and instantly spotted the milkshake and fries. (I learned my lesson about trying to hide them previously)
This time I preempted it all by saying "Look what I got for you to share."
This was followed by lots of slurping and chewing, and similar happy sounds as we drove home, all sharing the milkshake and fries.
About half way home, Jada, who was in the front seat said quietly, and with a small smile, "This was just going to be yours, wasn't it daddy?"
I put my finger to my lips, and nodded slightly.
She rewarded me with a huge, conspiratorial grin.
A milk shake costs just a buck, but moments like this are priceless.
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