Notes

Yesterday we had a nice rainy day outing to a nearby city--donuts and chocolate milk for the boys, while I scoured a thrift store (and left, is it so hard to believe?, with only some children's books), a break in the rain for running around a winter garden and then exploring a nicely humid conservatory whose snake and koi fascinated the kid, a visit to a really lovely church for mass--you know, with theologically informed hymns--and then dinner at a delicious Turkish restaurant. The restaurant was well reviewed and we didn't realize that you needed a reservation. Well, the host was a very friendly man, especially to the kid (he knew just how to interact with a child and said his own son is too old for these jokes anymore and that he misses it). He said that he shouldn't let us in without a reservation, but did because of the kid. Could this interaction have been any more opposite to one on the East Coast? We were very grateful that they let us in, since the food was so good, even if they hurried us out to seat the next reservation. (With a three-year-old we hardly hope to linger with our dinners, anyway.) #midwestnice

P.S. I was very disappointed: This was the first time that the kid didn't join in in eating whatever we were eating. (We had a great experience some months ago trying out an Ethiopian restaurant together, just the kid and me, even though the "chubby bread" wasn't his favorite.) He basically refused all of the food, even the bread (his favorite food in any form!). On the one hand, maybe this is three-year-old stuff. On the other, this past week at school they focused on the book, Green Eggs and Ham, encouraging children to try new things. I suspect this book sort of glorifies refusal. Sigh.