To Culvers or Bust

I had plans to serve chili for dinner last night. But Little Squirt came home from kindergarten asking if we could go to Culvers. He begged for a Culvers dinner, insisted on a Culvers dinner, which I found odd, as we hardly ever eat at Culvers. As I resisted, he began crying that his teacher would be there, and all his friends would be there, and he wanted to be there, too. Huh?? Little Squirt is not often the embodiment of clarity, so I dug through the mass of papers in his backpack looking for a reason for his persistence. I found a note that said 10% of all sales at Culvers that evening would go to his school. Ahhhh. The light dawned.

So we went to dine at Culvers last night, as apparently did every other family from Little Squirt’s school. A sea of people swarmed over every table. My family stalked and hovered and lingered strategically throughout the restaurant until I spied a table vacancy. I leap- frogged over 6 tables to grab it, while Super Hubs went up to order food, and Little Squirt wandered around greeting classmates like a rock star. Then we gorged on hamburgers and chicken and fries, which were served by various teachers and the school principal.

I cherish those somewhat spontaneous family times; a break from normalcy; the five of us laughing over the charming chaos of our dining experience. And Little Squirt was ecstatic that he was able to see his teacher. And eat a gummy bear ice cream sundae, which made the event all the more joyous for him.