Steak N Shake

Thursday night, mommy had a dress rehearsal for a concert she was singing in Saturday evening. So it was daddy and daughter night.

I decided to take Rachel to one of her favorite hangouts (can you have a hangout at age 3?), Steak N Shake.

I decided I'd treat my yogurt addict to a mocha shake, chicken nuggets and fries. As we waited, she drank her water with a spoon. It seems like it would take longer than usual to quench your thirst that way, but it wasn't hurting anyone and was entertaining to watch.

About five minutes into the meal, my daughter turns to me and says, "I am working on a poopie diaper." However, I could tell the work was done, so we headed for the men's room.

Thankfully, Steak N Shake has a changing table and I laid her on top of it. As always, she turned her head toward the wall and started reading the letters embossed on the plastic. I decided when I was done with her, I was going to take care of my own bathroom needs.

Well, Rachel wasn't about to lay on the changing table. She wanted to sit on my lap while I took care of "business." And that's what she did, until she realized the latch didn't work in the stall and she could wander around the bathroom until it was time to return to our table or I grabbed her, which I wasn't in the position to do at the present time.

I wound up keeping her occupied by tearing off pieces of toilet paper and asking her to throw them away for me. That did the trick until we both washed our hands and returned to the table.

Rachel took about one bite out of her child's chicken finger platter and drank about half of her mocha shake when she announced, "My tummy doesn't hurt anymore."

So while I tried to figure out how I was going to carry out a diaper bag, two milkshakes, her box of leftovers and Rachel to the car, she went to the gumball machine. I told her the shake was enough sweets.

As I continued to ponder my blancing act, I heard a waitress say, "A quarter?" and I looked up. Rachel was trying to bum a quarter for gum. I rebuked her with a loud "No!" and went up front to pay the check.

By then, Rachel was trying to climb a barstool, so she could twirl from side to side. I sat next to her until she grew bored and walked to a high chair with wheels and demanded a ride around the waiting area. After a short ride, we left the restaurant.

"I don't want to go home," she told me. "I want a yogurt!"

TCBY was across the street. "You're not getting a yogurt," I replied. "You just had half a milkshake!"

Not even two-tenths of the way down the road, she tries something else. "I want to go to 11Alive" she states.

"Rachel, my office is 20 miles down the road! We are going home!"

We cross over the freeway to the other side. Rachel looks to her right and says, "I want to go to Best Buy!"

"Rachel, why would you want to go to Best Buy?"

"I want a Wiggles video!"

"Rachel, you got a Wiggles video and a Little People video for your birthday. You haven't even seen both of them yet. You got a lot for your birthday! I'm not getting you a video! Besides, I have to do laundry!"

"Daddy doesn't do laundry; mommy does laundry."

I then explained to her that roles in our house are not defined by gender. Daddies can do laundry too.

The ride home was uneventful from that point on.

Two days later, we are driving to my uncle's old apartment to pick up a couple of things. It's about a 35-45 minute drive one-way, so I stop my Arby's to pick up some lunch. Rachel asks for chicken nuggets.

After I order the kids' meal, I tell her I want to see her eat the chicken this time. "Two nights before, you took one bite and that was it. Are you going to eat it this time?" I asked.

"I'm not going to play with it" came the reply.

It looks like my sarcasm gene got passed on. What a relief!