By melinchina on Feb 20, 2008
6:00pm Sunday night: 7-year-old Audrey decides to write a menu for the dinner I'm cooking.
6:10pm: Menu is done, Audrey decides she will be the waitress and Grant will be the maitre d'.
6:12pm: Grant seems unable to learn the one simple line he'll need for his new job, "Let me show you to your seats."
6:15pm: Still can't say his line.
6:20pm: Despite Grant's protests Audrey insists that it's not acceptable to let the guests choose their own seats.
6:21pm: Grant does what he always does when his sister tries to control him too much: he turns into a dog.
6:22pm: Audrey takes the dog outside for a 'private conversation'. All I can hear from the kitchen is Grant barking.
6:30pm: Audrey comes back and tells me Grant has a new job. All he has to do is turn flips for the guests and make them laugh.
6:45pm: I'm relieved that my daughter can work with what she's given sometimes. And glad that my son can assert himself. And thrilled that he didn't crack his head on the kitchen floor trying to turn flips for the guests (me and my husband). And happy that the spaghetti was good.