Baby had come to pick up the girls for the evening. As usual, she had no food in her house. (Baby’s cooking misdaventures are the stuff of legend.) There are quite a few places to pick up some dinner on the ten minute drive between our apartment and her house. So, she posed the question to the girls: “What do you want to eat for dinner?” No ideas offered from the backseat. “Okay, then, how about Kentucky Fried Chicken?” It seemed like a good plan since it was on the right side of a very wide highway in rush hour traffic.
Gracie, the pleaser, was just fine with that. Max, however, was not. “NO! I DON’T want Kentucky Fried Chicken!”
“Fine, then, Bethany, what do you want?”
“I want to eat at my special place.”
“Where is your special place?” Baby asked.
“It’s up there. You’ll see.”
Baby, needing to know things like what side of the highway Max’s special place was on, had to have more information than that. “You have to tell me the name of it.”
Gracie has had enough experience with Max to simply suggest they go back to the Kentucky Fried Chicken plan.
“NO!” shouted Max. “I want to eat at my special place! It’s right up there! Wait for it…….waaaaaait for it……..”
“Do you mean Arby’s?” suggested Gracie trying to be helpful. “McDonald’s? Hardee’s? Taco Bell?”
Max screamed in exasperation: “No! No, I DON’T want TACO BELL! All they have is CHICKEN! I don’t want chicken! I want to eat at my special place!”
Then, out of nowhere, she burst into song. “A-B-C-D, this I know, for the Bible tells me so…”
Gracie corrected her, “No, Bethany, it’s not A-B-C-D this I know. It’s Jesus loves me, this I know.”
Max huffed, “I don’t feel like singing about Jesus right now.”
Then, she spotted it. “There it is! My special place! KFC!”
You know, that chicken place.