A new eating establishment opened today in our little Idaho town.
When they started construction earlier last year I held a small pity party for myself. Since then, I have kept my poutiness to myself...until now.
This morning at 6:05, Steve jumped out of bed and exclaimed he was taking our children to the grand opening.
I stayed in bed in protest.
The kids dressed in record time, except for Saylor who went in her pj's without shoes, socks or coat. She was wrapped in a blanket with a promise that Steve would only be going through the drive through.
But they went in...without shoes...and got breakfast.
They brought this home.
They also brought this home.
I opened it...smelled it...and almost cried.
Andrew actually asked me in a sad serious voice if I was going to be alright.
This sandwich is what got me through Colby's pregnancy. Ate one at LEAST twice a week.
(least...meaning everytime I drove past the restaurant before 10:30 am)
I'm pregnant now and would KILL to eat this pain free. Won't be happening anytime soon.
The kids would also sporadically jump around the house in joy saying how delicious their breakfast was. They would then turn to me, drop their heads and say, "Sorry Mom. It wasn't that good."
Yea right you little gluten traitors.
This was my consolation prize for the morning.
A small band-aid for a gaping gluten-free-chick-fil-a-void-breakfast wound.
(drama drama drama)
I also ate a peanut butter cookie to ease the pain.
It only helped a little.
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