Chynna's 6-1/2 and Darien's 4. Mommy and daddy are getting a divorce and the children are packing, getting ready to move back to Portland from Pittsburgh. They'll be leaving daddy behind. It's sad in the house and the heaviness is thick, like molasses.
Chynna decides a game is in order. "Sit down in this chair, mommy. I'm going to be the waitress and you and Darien are married and you're going to order dinner."
Chynna grabs Darien's hand and leads him to the table, offering up a hand-written menu with only three words: Menu, PB&J, and water.
She grabs an apron, puts it on, and goes about the business of preparing the food.
Darien and I review the menu for just a couple minutes, then Darien calls out, "Waitress."
After about a minute, he tries again: "Waitress?" this time just slightly louder. She doesn't answer.
He snaps his head away from the menu to stare at Chynna, who is working intently, spreading peanut butter on bread even before taking a drink order. I watch him stare, the seconds passing like minutes, his face twisting and brows furrowing with each tick of the clock.
He loses it.
"WAAAAAIIIIITTTTTTRRRRRREEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!" he screams at the top of his lungs.
Without missing a beat, Chynna whips around, peanut butter slathered knife in one hand, the other hand on her hip. "YOU HAVE TO WAIT, DARIEN. THAT'S WHY I'M CALLED A WAIT-RESS!!"
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