Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Waiter, there's a fly in my soup!

When my brother and I were little we used to have this game we played. Every once in a while, my parents would cook dinner for themselves. Then they would get dressed up and go downstairs to our family room. My brother and I would put on black pants and white shirts. We would write up a menu and set the table. Then we would meet my parents on the landing and escort them to their "table". Then we would serve as the waiter and waitress for their dinner "out". We had pads of paper and took their orders, then carried everything from the kitchen upstairs down to them downstairs. We would even refill their water glasses and clear the dishes to bring new courses. We LOVED it. SERIOUSLY loved it. It was great.

Today, K decided out of nowhere that she wanted to serve dinner to her brother and sister and us. It was homemade pizza. She wrote up a menu and used her picnic set to set the table in our family room. She used her Disney tea party cart to carry the food back and forth. She wore black pants and a blue shirt (she couldn't find a white one). When she came up with the idea I told her we used to do it too. She loved it.

4 comments:

Laura said...

My brother loved doing that too...

I love it when activites repeat the next generation - things seem so universal then!

jill said...

child slavery! loving it! he he!

Mordermi said...

It's not slavery if they think it up and volunteer for it.

Side note: K threw a hissy fit, complete with curling up in a chair and sulking, when we would let he do this last night. (we had some time constraints last night, so going through the whole routine wasn't practical.)

jill said...

whatever works! he he!