One dinner. It’s just one dinner.
He wants more. I know he does. He knows he does.
But he keeps insisting it’s just dinner.
“You’re going to wear straight through the floorboards,” Mom says.
“What’s a floorboard?” Levi asks from his spot on the floor.
He and Jack are in matching pajamas with fire trucks all over them. Their teeth are brushed and they’ve had their bath. Now they’re just playing with toys for the hour before my mom puts them to bed for me.
The firefighter pajamas came in a two-pack. The other set has a baseball-and-glove motif. They were on sale. I’m not giving a nod to the handsome fireman about to pick me up for dinner. We’re not head-over-heels for firemen over here. They’re just pajamas.
“Where you going, Mommy?” Jack asks.
“Out with a friend.”
“Where out?” Levi asks. “Outside?”
“To a restaurant. To eat dinner.”
“You can eat here. Have some macaroni,” Jack offers.
“I want to go to a restaurant!” Levi shouts.
I walk over to the spot where the boys are sitting, LEGOs strewn all around them. “I tell you what.”
“What, Mommy?” Levi asks.
“You do a good job going to sleep for Granny and we’ll think about going out to the Dairy Mart tomorrow. Okay?”
“The one with the cow?” Jack asks.
“The one with the cow.”
“Okay, Mommy,” Levi says.
“You going to the cow one?” Jack asks.
“No. I’m going to a different one. It’s more boring.”
Levi’s face scrunches up. “Why?”
“Because adults aren’t as fun as kids.”
“Got that right,” Mom says from her spot on the couch.
I chuckle.
“I’m being fun,” I remind her.
“’Bout time.”
“I thought you were boring,” Levi says.
“I’m being a little boring. But more fun than I usually am.”
“Why?” Jack asks.
