Mojo's night out tonight, so I gave the Peeper the call: where do you want to go for dinner. He took about a nanosecond:
Missy immediately chimed in: "McOnald's!" (she'll want anything her idolized big brother wants).
So after a quick Internet search we were off for Fourth Plain in the 'Couve to get our deep-fried dinner at L'Arc d'Or.
We're eating our meal (Missy and I) or alternatively dashing up the play structure AND eating our dinner (The Peep) when in comes The Large Family. Seven of them (or eight, it was hard to tell exactly); Mom, Dad and kids from diapers to video games.
My first clue was the toddler. I'm not exactly a fashionista but, pal, unless it's August in Brownsville OR you're a gen-u-wine shitkicking redneck, the overalls-and-no-shirt thing? Makes you look simple. Deliverance-level simple.
We returned to eating and playing until I spot Large Dad, redneck toddler in arms, is backing up to the side door of the play area. The door designed as a fire door only? The door wired to prevent kids racing out into the parking lot or stranger-danger abductions? The door plastered with the huge red-and-white signs reading "Not An Exit" "Alarmed Door" "Attempt to Exit Will Cause Alarm To Sound"?
Yep. That door.
You guessed it. The best part was the gobsmacked look on Dad's face as he steps back into the room amit the screaming sirens, looks at the door, looks at his wife, looks at the toddler in his arms and announces to the room at large: "You can't get out that way."
Give us all credit - no one said "No shit, Sherlock" until after he'd ambled out the other door. But after that I laughed so hard I was almost in tears by the time the harassed manager showed up to key off the alarm.
Ain't that America? You and me, baby...