Returning to the scene of the crime

Remember the meltdown to end all meltdowns at the diner?

We've returned a few times to the scene of the crime without much drama. But if I'm honest, I have to say that every time we've returned, I get a few butterflies in my stomach, wondering if there will be a repeat performance.

Last night, as we were finishing up our errands, Biscuit asked if we could have pancakes for dinner. And guess where he wanted them from. I looked at Jeff, and he said, "Sounds good to me."

We went to the diner and had a really nice dinner. The food was good. The boy was in a great mood. And it was just an overall enjoyable experience.

So imagine my surprise when the manager came over and started chatting. He asked Biscuit if his pancakes were good, how old he is and about the cars we had drawn on his paper placemat.

Then the manager said, "Wow. You are such a mature little boy. Good manners and so independent. I'll tell you what. If you finish your dinner, and Mom and Dad say it's okay, you can have a scoop of chocolate ice cream ... on me."

Now, Biscuit had just finished pancakes with syrup. The last thing I wanted him to have was more sugar, not to mention the chocolate. But it was such a nice gesture on the manager's part, I figured, what the heck.

Biscuit ate his pancakes so fast, I think he swallowed most of them whole. And with his mouth still crammed full of his last bite of pancakes, Biscuit said, "I can have my chocolate ice cream now?"

When the server came by to refill Jeff's coffee, I said to Biscuit, "Can you tell her what you want?"

He told her he wanted his chocolate ice cream, and he said please, and she brought him a dish that was mounding over with chocolate ice cream.

I helped him eat about a third of what was in the bowl, and he said, "I'm full, Mom. I'm done."

I said, "You're full? You don't want more ice cream?"

Griffin raised up his shirt and starting poking his belly button. "No more food," Biscuit said. "My hole is all full."

I couldn't help but laugh as we were leaving. All I could think was that this manager had no idea that only a couple of months ago, he probably would've been praying for us to hurry up and get out of his restaurant. But last night, he was rewarding our little man with ice cream.

Ah, the moods of a toddler.