Scene: 5:30 pm. A local McMenamins, we join our family seated in a booth, gazing at menus.
The Child: “I guess I’ll get an RC.”
Mark: “I think I’m going to order a Grapefruit Pom Nom Paloma.” (To John) “Are you going to order a drink?”
John: “I don’t know… (Thinking about how it’s early, but it’s still a school night, and he would have to figure out how to get home.) I don’t usually order booze when I’m here….”
Mark: “Why not? You could order a margarita.”
John (Holding up his index finger, swishing his shoulders, and launching into song): “Give me one mar-”
The Child (practically launching out of his seat and thrusting his palm across the table, a look of horror on his face tempered by the look of relief that we’re the only ones in this section of the restaurant): “STOP!”
(John and Mark trying and failing to keep straight faces and barely concealing their laughter.)
John: “Whoo! I didn’t even get past ‘margarita!’”
The Child: “What? That’s a weird song.”
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