I will admit I have a weakeness for Bob Evans pancakes. I mean, it’s no waffle from Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles (hold the chicken for me please) but they are dang good and the second we walk in the toddler starts calling ‘cakes! the cakes!’
Max lives in a really nice world. Every where we go someone swoons over him. Tells him he’s gorgeous. I want to live in that world, don’t you? Bed head? Awwww, so cute. Covered in food? So sweet! Mismatched clothes because you refuse to take off the guitar shirt? How sweet are you??
In fact, not to long ago Max caused a fight. He was cruising along at the mall and TOTT and I were relishing all the comments made either too us, or just overheard about how fantabulous our kiddo is. An adorable couple approached him, the 20 something blond girl said to her man “isn’t he the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?” the boyfriend responded “eh, it’s a baby.” The light went out of her eyes and TOTT whispered to me “oh his stock just dropped.” She turned on him, how could he not think that baby was the cutest thing? Agreed blond girl! How dare he! We passed by them and kept going, but I’m pretty sure that Max prevented that pretty blond girl from marrying a cold hearted baby hater. We passed by them later at the food court and all was not well in Camelot. You’re welcome random blond girl at Tyson’s Corner Mall.
It was no surprise to me that when me and Mommy’s Ma (my mom, as opposed to Daddy’s Ma) took him to Bob Evans and the waitresses went all ga ga over him. I adore that people treat him well, and they always coo when he says please and thank you. Raising a boy with good manners is important to me. I hope he is always fawned over, but I will not allow him to expect preferencial treatment, abuse it, or take it for granted. I will do my best to raise a grateful child, and one who treats others as beautifully as he is treated. It’s a glorious life for him so far. I wonder if he will grow up gorgeous or if this is the pinnacle of his cute. Either way, I just think he is the bees knees y’all! I know you feel the same way about your babes, and that’s just the way it should be.
We had a lovely waitress named Lauren who immediatly proclaimed her undying love for Max. She was about 22 and adorable and was rushing around with an injured leg. Dude. I admired the heck out of her as she raced around limping from table to table with a big smile on her face and a kind word for everyone. Max pulled out all the tricks for her. Showing off all his signs and singing his songs for her, which now include Something and Here Comes the Sun. He played guitar and peek a boo. Lauren the Waitress stood no chance.
And so along with eggs and pancakes I can announce the betrothal of my only son to Lauren the Waitress, who had her friend the hostess draw Max his very favorite thing in the world (other than ‘both sides’ thankyouverymuch) and offered me this clearly legal contract to care for Max in the manner in which he has become occustomed, in 25 years.