After the long, excellent, fancy dinner the night before, and a long, excellent, exhausting day at SeaWorld, and a the promise of a long, maybe not-so-excellent night in the hotel alone because–at least for the day–I had become a ComicCon widow, I had no inclination to take the kids out for dinner by myself. I suppose I might have mentioned Room Service, or maybe Ella had read the In-Room menu, and rather than taking the elevator down 3 floors to the restaurant, I relented. The kids had a long, warm bath and soaked off the grime of the day, and by the time they emerged, pajama clad and sweet-smelling, the food had arrived replete with silver plate covers. We made some ceremony of setting up our little table, uncovering the food, and we feasted in our pajamas. The food was really excellent, including a Grilled Shrimp Cocktail with Bloody Mary Cocktail sauce, that was good enough to drink. (I refrained and had a really great local brew instead.)
Ella and Finn had burgers (no surprise there); I had a grilled cuban
sandwich. The kids were gleeful. We were all relaxed and we dug into
our food eagerly . The meal was the Antidote to Fine Dining, and in
its own way, every bit as good.
The Moral: sometimes it’s best just to give into the children’s begging, your own fatigue, and take the easy way out.