|This chef has the magic touch!|
|Table for 8?|
|Or intimate setting for two?|
It took awhile for me to get into it.
My daughter begged me to go down to the basement and play "restaurant" with her, and I did so, but begrudgingly. I kept thinking of all the other things I needed to (or wanted to) do, and playing wasn't one of them. Besides, playing always makes more mess to clean up, and I'm not so keen on more mess. But, as I sighed my way to the downstairs, it wouldn't do if I flat out refused to play.
I took orders.
I served plastic food.
I poured pretend water and tea.
I answered pretend phone calls.
I watched baby dolls.
And I watched my daughter play. She wasn't trying to so hard to be cool or grown-up. She was just being a kid, and doing what kids do best: playing and imagining.
And toward the end, I actually started having fun. Because it's not about how straight my house is all the time. It's about the relationships inside.
|Any restaurant worth it's salt has a cash register that says Open Sesame.|