Today is Saturday

We ran errands today, Ann, Charlie, Johnny, and I. Specifically, we went to Michael's to pick up the picture they were framing for Ann and Jeremy. It wasn't ready, which we learned after spending about an hour there.

When it got to be about 1 o'clock, we decided lunch should be now and told Charlie we would go to a restaurant. He knew right now what he wanted: fries and ketchup. No surprise there.
But we're not going to that kind of restaurant, we explained.

"What kind of a restaurant are we going to?" he asked.
"Costa Vida," we answered.
"I don't want to go there. I want to go to a different restaurant. I like a different restaurant. A different restaurant is my favorite."
I said, "I'm sorry, but Costa Vida is where we are going today. You can get a cheese tortilla there."
"I don't want a cheese tortilla. I want fries and ketchup. McDonalds is my favorite restaurant. Let's go to McDonalds. Please."

Johnny slept.

"There is no McDonalds near where we're going," I said to Ann.
Ann said, "Charlie, Grandma and I don't like McDonalds. We're going to a tortilla restaurant." And that made Charlie cry. I thought it might. It's true, though.
Charlie said, sobbing, that he wanted to go to McDonalds, and, crying harder now, "I want you to like McDonalds, Mama."

Ann said, "You need to calm down, Charlie."
"Okay," he said, trying hard to stop crying. But he was upset, close to panic. I remember that feeling. You're a little kid, and it looks like you're not going to get what you want, and you have no power. It's panicky.

Ann and I are grown-ups. We have the power in this situation. At least today we do. And we are not heartless. "We'll see what we can do, Charlie. We'll see if we can find a place to get you some fries."
"Okay," still crying.
"Charlie," Ann said, "You need to calm down."
"I did calm down, Mama, but the tears are still coming." (And who couldn't love that?)

We told Charlie we would get him some fries and ketchup.
"And a soda? I want fries and ketchup and a drink." He was still crying a little, but not pushing things, just telling what he wanted. We could get him a drink at Costa Vida and told him so.

Ann wondered if we were caving in and maybe should hold a firm line. I said, "No. We're going to lunch for a treat, and it should be a treat for all of us."

She found a hamburger place, we went to the drive through, got his fries and ketchup, and took them to Costa Vida, where he got his soda and where, it turns out, he did want a cheese tortilla after all. He was happy, and so were we.