Jeff and I ended up eating out twice last Tuesday. And both times, we got really good service.
For lunch, Jeff said he'd like a hamburger, and since we needed to drop some stuff in the mail, we went to a burger place right beside the post office. They have peanuts you can eat while you wait on your food, and they have good hamburgers that you can customize to your liking. The fries are really good, too. They have a white board at the counter where they write the town and state that the potatoes came from. Jeff and I usually share a small order. They fill up a cup and put it in the bag. Then it's like they grab an extra handful and toss them in there, too.
Jeff went to the bathroom, so I opened up the tin foil around the burgers and divvied up the fries. On his way back to the table, Jeff grabbed a bottle of vinegar.
"Eeew," I said. "No kisses for you!"
Jeff was going to turn his food around so the fries (and icky vinegar) would be away from me. But in the process, he spilled about half his fries.
There was an employee sweeping up the dining room. "Excuse me," I said to her. "He has made a mess. Can we use your broom?"
"Of course not!" she said, and she started sweeping up the fries.
I looked at Jeff and said (like I was talking to a little kid), "Now you tell her thank you and don't let that happen again."
She laughed and went on about her cleaning.
A few minutes later, she walked over to our table with a cup of french fries for Jeff. We thanked her and enjoyed the rest of our meal.
Biscuit has piano lessons on Tuesday. If he behaves himself and does well at his lessons, he gets to pick a restaurant for dinner. He chose Mexican. Biscuit's Spanish teacher has been teaching them about food words and how to order in restaurants. So Biscuit asked for his dinner in Spanish. And the server immediately launched into a whole Spanish conversation. And Biscuit just stared at him.
"I only know a little bit," Biscuit said.
He ordered a quesadilla with black beans, and since it was 99-cent taco night, I told him he could add on a taco.
So the server said, "So you had a quesadilla and a taco for dinner? It was good?"
"No," Biscuit said. "I haven't HAD dinner yet. I WANT a quesadilla and a taco."
I don't know if Biscuit is hitting a growth spurt or what, but he asked me to put some of the black beans on his quesadilla and ate every bite of it. Then he ate his taco. Then he used some of the chips to scoop up the leftover black beans.
When the server came back to check on us, he saw Biscuit's plate and said, "You cleaned your plate."
As Biscuit grabbed a chip and scooped up the last five or six black beans on his plate, he looked up at the server and said, "NOW, I've cleaned my plate."
I asked for a box to take home the food I couldn't eat, and when the server came back, he had a box and a bag of chips and salsa for us to take home. Then when he came back to leave the bill, he brought Biscuit a sopapilla (a fried tortilla with cinnamon and honey). It was decorated with whipped cream, sprinkles and chocolate syrup. And he shared a few bites with Jeff and me.
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