Woo hoo for family nights! We were able to take all our kids, kid-in-law, kid-in-law-to-be, and grandkid out for dinner last night.
It is so much fun to say "Table for eight, please"!
Were we celebrating? Heck yes! One anniversary (ours), one birthday, and one engagement. There has been a lot of activity in our extended abode over the last two weeks.
I am thankful that Steve is so comfortable around our immediate family. He talked, laughed, and told silly jokes. Our kids talked, laughed, and told silly jokes right back at him. They know him and love him, just the way he is. We all had a wonderful time, and I tipped our server handsomely as we occupied her tables for close to two hours.
Cheesecakes have never tasted so good.
"Why couldn't I have my own piece of cheesecake?" queried my husband as soon as we were firmly ensconced in our car.
I waited a few moments before putting my key in the ignition.
After establishing that there was no other questions or dialog from Steve, I asked him if he was hungry.
"Oh no, I'm stuffed!" he admitted.
"Well, I imagine you are as you ate all of your dinner, some of mine, and half of daughterlet's," I replied as gently as possible. The evening's revelry was fresh on my mind and in my heart. The last thing I wanted was to get into an argument. "Did you see the server bring four 'to go' boxes to the table? There were others who were full also. But we were at a restaurant that specializes in cheesecake, so we all decided to order four different types so we could share. Do you remember the server bringing the eight individual clean plates and forks before the dessert was served to us? Do you remember being given a set?"
I was trying not to sound annoyed. I do tell Steve to ask me to explain things he doesn't understand.
"Ummm, I think so," came his hesitant reply.
"Do you remember the server then bringing the four cheesecake slices on four separate and larger plates, setting those plates down the middle of our tables?" I inquired.
After a slight hesitation, The Hubster acknowledged that he had.
"Do you remember us passing those plates around with knives on them and each of us slicing off a bit of each type, putting the small slice on our own individual plate?"
I waited as Steve thought some more.
"Yes," he responded, "But the peanut-butter kind was so good! I don't understand why I had to share it."
"We shared because we were all full, but wanted to taste some of it. You and I have talked about taste before, haven't we? Having more of something doesn't intensify the flavor. The taste is the same whether we have just one bite or a whole cake. If we were already full, we would then be over eating, which isn't healthy for us. Sharing was a compromise. Sharing four types was a sampling. If you really wanted more you were certainly welcome to order more. You never said that you wanted your own piece," I explained, trying hard not to sound as if I were lecturing.
Steve insists he doesn't like to be lectured, yet the man has a masters degree in engineering,.You know darned well that he has willingly attended a lecture or two.
I took a deep breath and waited a few more minutes, but there was no further response from my spouse. I started the car to head home. We accomplished the journey with classic rock pounding from the car speakers, but no other dialog. The hubby wore a smile the entire trip.
As we were in our bathroom getting ready for bed a while later, my dear husband mumbled around his toothbrush.
"Well, I guess we have to share in families. That's the rule," he stated with authority.
Yes, I laughed out loud, spraying foamy toothpaste all over the mirror!