Last week, the cutest, funniest, smartest, kindest, most competent, capable, responsible, active, adventurous, caring, sensitive, optimistic and loving husband and father in the world celebrated his 37th birthday. He thinks he’s old. We think he’s wonderful.
We wanted to do something special for him this year, so the kids dreamed up a “Real, Fancy Restaurant” (their words). We hung Fancy Tablecloths over the entryways to the dining room, dimmed the lights, and lit Fancy Candles on a Fancy Table complete with a black tablecloth, fresh flowers, and Grandma’s Special Super Fancy China, which hasn’t been used since two Christmases ago. (Yeah, it’s that Fancy.)
Appetizers: Bistro Salad of mixed greens, capers, and onions
Entree: Succulent Indian Curry, steamed jasmine rice, warm, crisp flatbread
Dessert: Decadant Triple Chocolate Fudge Cake with rich vanilla bean ice cream.
It all went off perfectly. Dad came home, waited in the Fancy Foyer (our living room with a few dining chairs set in it) and relaxed to Fancy Classical Music while mom changed from sweaty chef to glamorous date. We sat and enjoyed our Fancy Fare while the gracious waiters showered us with flawless service. The youngest waiter, however, got bored with serving and decided to sit down next to us and be served instead. (He’s nobody’s fool.) We allowed this addition to our Fancy Romantic Dinner because, honestly…how do you shoo away a four-year old with a mustache?