My parents came out to Pennsylvania for an unexpected visit yesterday. My father built the contraption my husband needed to mount the keyboard tray to the bottom of my desk. However, it wasn’t something he could send through the mail, so they drove out yesterday morning so my dad and husband could install it together. (And let me tell you, it took hours! Sawdust, drilling, and three iterations of positioning it later, and it’s finally installed!) I’m almost “back in business,” but there are some more things that need to be tweaked before I can be pain free at my desk again. (Plus, after three weeks of angst since the keyboard tray broke off, I’ve been sitting poorly whenever I have been at the computer. Therefore, it’s going to take some time to undo the damage I did. Writer problems!)
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When I was a little girl, my father took me out to breakfast every Sunday morning. Even though I am an only child, I just loved these Sunday morning breakfasts with my Dad since it gave me 1:1 time for me to hang out with him and for him to talk to me about things happening in school.
My Dad has recently decided to start up the Sunday morning breakfast tradition with Isabelle. While they can’t exactly have discussions about how school is going or her career aspirations, they can begin a glorious Sunday morning tradition of their own.
Even though my parents live in NJ, my Dad has started making Sunday mornings “Izzy-Zayde Breakfasts” when he sees her. This morning he took her to breakfast at a new place. Just a local diner about a mile away from our house. I suggested it since I thought it would be nice for him to vary the places he takes her. He happily obliged and took her there not knowing what their menu was, if they had high chairs, etc.
I later found out he parked the car and took Isabelle in. They were ushered to a booth that had a seat so high Isabelle was able to sit next to him on the bench without a booster seat. Apparently when she sat down on the bench, she was even able to prop her little arms up on the table. When he told me this I said, “Awww. You two must’ve looked so cute sitting there next to each other.”
It’s funny that I said that because my father shared a little story that had to do just with that.
Moments after they arrived at the booth, my father took off Isabelle’s coat and placed her on the bench in the booth. She immediately grabbed the menu in front of her and began “reading” it. The waitress came by, looked at her, and said, “Oh, she’s so cute.”
Isabelle looked up, stared at her, and then tossed the menu to the side. (Why? My Dad has no idea!)
The waitress looked at Isabelle, then turned to my Dad and said, “I think I retract my earlier statement.”
My Dad wasn’t in the least bit offended. Hey, when you do something bratty, it’s not all that cute.
That being said, my Dad (who never sugar coats things) said Isabelle did great at breakfast. She did the stand-on-the-knees-and-peer-into-the-next-booth thing once. And, she ate her entire platter (sans crust) of her French toast. And aside from tossing the menu aside with disgust, she behaved the entire time they were out.
Another successful Izzy-Zayde Breakfast. Knowing how much I loved breakfast with my Dad as a kid, I’m delighted for Izzy that she’ll get to share many more Sunday mornings with him.