My father took Doug, Evan and I out for lunch one day last week. It was a restaurant without a drive-thru and the name of the place refers to the salad that every customer is served. I don’t know why they include this in their name, since there are only 2 in the large salad bowl. Are you picturing the restaurant now? It doesn’t matter if you haven’t figured out the restaurant. The point is that although it is not fancy, you do expect a certain standard of cleanliness there. Well, I do anyway. The adults at our table kept the wild child safely contained in our corner of the room, but that didn’t stop him from attempting escape. He crawled under our table and seemed so content in his hiding place that we made no efforts to get him back into his assigned chair. When he finally reappeared and happily resumed his child’s menu decorating, the adults continued their conversation about politics and sons who would soon be able to cancel out their father’s votes. I’ve been busy canceling out the other brother’s votes, so this levels the family playing field considerably. Doug got a strange look on his face and asked what was in Evan’s mouth that suddenly made his toddler cheek resemble a chipmunk. Evan spat out a large green grape that slowly rolled across the table as we all sat, slack-jawed and horrified. The slow motion grape roll clicked the gears in our brains that were weak from not yet having been served any food. Our shocked faces simultaneously transformed to disgusted and we made sound effects to accompany them. “Ew.” “Yuck.” “Gross.” Evan found this funnier than the food treasure that was quickly removed from his sight. The waiter appeared with our salad and we all sat silently. Except Evan. Evan giggled and asked for “More!”