You Just Might be a Preacher's Kid...

When we eat at Chick-fil-a we do things a certain way. It didn't happen on purpose exactly but more over time as we have learned what works best. Usually my Man takes the lead position at the front of our queue of 6 and I bring up the rear. Standing at the end works perfectly for me because I'm an indecisive orderer and it allows the most time to come to a solid selection. The other reason my man stands at the front of the line is so that he can monitor the children's orders and prevent Molly from ordering say, an ice cream cone and an order of fries with a large soda for her lunch or to lend a word of caution to a growing teenaged boy who thinks it best to order say, two milkshakes and 4 chicken sandwiches. 

Often, because there are so many of us and because I'm not standing next to my Man, another Chick-Fil-A employee will quickly arrive behind a neighboring cash register and look directly at me and say, "May I help you?"

I answer pointing, "I'm with them."

"Oh," says the red-clad employee, "then I'll help him!" and begins assisting the poor kid who is attempting to take and gather our order. Ya gotta love Chick-Fil-A initiative. 

Last week we made our way to one of the few areas in the seating section which will hold us comfortably. As we began to arrange ourselves a small dust up occurred as Cole sat where Molly was planning to sit. 

"Cole!!!! I was gonna sit there. You KNOW I like to sit on the PEW!!"

Rising to appease, Cole muttered, "How do you know you're a PK! (PK = Preacher's Kid)"

NOTE: Kitchen project is underway! Pappa has arrived and is working in his normal fashion 157% effort! Stay tuned.