The best laid plans

I picked Biscuit up from day care this evening, and as I was strapping him into his car seat, he asked where we were going.

"Well, we're going to the store, then we're going home," I said.

"Let's not go to the store," Biscuit said. "Let's go to the pancake restaurant and eat pancakes. Does that sound like a good plan?" And let me add that Biscuit pronounces "restaurant" with three very distinct syllables ... rest-a-rant.

"No. That doesn't sound like a good plan," I said. "We have to go buy some things at the store, then we're going to go home to make dinner."

"And dinner will be pancakes at the pancake restaurant?" Biscuit asked.

"No," I said to him. "Dinner will be chicken and beans and sweet potatoes."

"I like chicken and beans and sweet potatoes," he said. "But I like pancakes better."

Jeff was working on a late story, so he called while Biscuit and I were in the store. He said he was done with his story, but he couldn't find his keys. I don't carry keys to his car with me, so Biscuit and I had to take the items in our buggy (about half of what we were there for, I might add) to the cash register. We paid and headed out of the store, with Biscuit asking, "Do we have everything we need, Mom?" the whole time.

As we were leaving the store, I explained to Biscuit that we didn't get everything we needed, but Dad lost the keys to his car, so we needed to go home, get the extra keys and drive the 20 minutes it takes to get downtown. So we drove home, I made Biscuit use the bathroom, I poured some milk in a sippy cup, I poured a little bowl full of crackers, I grabbed my keys to Jeff's car, and we were off.

"Are we going to your work?" Biscuit asked.

"Yes," I said. "We're going to where Dad and I work. That's where Dad's car is."

I thought I had explained every part of our mission, but Biscuit asked about a thousand more questions.

"Where is Dad's car? Is Dad at work? Is Dad coming home with us? Is Dad going to ride in our car? Can I run up the ramp at your work? Can we ride the elevator? Where is Dad? Did Dad find his keys? Does Dad like pancakes? Can we go to the pancake restaurant?"

Needless to say, the whole lost-key thing threw a big, fat monkey wrench into my dinner plans. It was 7:45 before we left the parking lot at work.

And I'm happy (and frustrated) to say that Jeff's keys were down beside the passenger seat in my car. He has a new coat that has very shallow pockets. So when we went to lunch in my car, his keys fell out, and he didn't realize it. I had been driving around with his keys the whole evening.

Jeff and I had cereal for dinner. Biscuit had half a PB&J sandwich and a cup of applesauce. It wasn't gourmet fare, but considering our evening, I think it was good enough.