French Fry Party

O: Momma, my brain bone hurts.

K: Maybe you should rest when we get home.

O: No, that won’t help. The only thing that will fix my brain bone is a French Fry party.

In order to share this with you I have to confess some things first, some dark secret things about my parenting.  My kids don’t always eat organic.  I don’t personally prepare every morsel that enters their sweet tiny mouths.  They have eaten boxed mutant orange macaroni and cheese, sodium-laden canned soup, and a shade of pink not-found-in-nature bubblegum ice cream.  They have had refined sugar, GMO produce, and gluten.  We eat at restaurants.  We order take-out.  And, wait for it, we sometimes drive thru and get, gasp, fast food.  There.  I said it.  I feel better.

The reason we drive through, however, is a special one.  After an especially long day, we will on occasion have a French Fry party. The best thing about a French Fry party, other than the delicious golden crispy goodness of drive thru french fries, is the spontaneity.  We don’t plan it. We can have one regardless of the weather, the time of day, or the number of tantrums. I guess, if I’m being honest, I also like that it feels a little bad, that we have to hide that fast food bag at the bottom of the trash or make sure that none of the other preschool moms see the detritus in the car. 

 

 This, ladies and gentlemen, is what a French Fry Party looks like

This, ladies and gentlemen, is what a French Fry Party looks like

Someone will suggest it.  We’ll all get a conspiratorial smile.  We sing the French Fry party song.  We find a drive thru.  We do have our preferences, but I’m not going to start a french fry debate here.  French Fry parties are about love.  One medium french fry, please.  I am instantly the conquering hero.  My strengths and abilities at procuring this delicious treat are lauded at top volume.  P would eat them all in the car.  O, the planner, wants to save each and every one until we reach our destination and we can really enjoy them.  I wield the power, the greasy bag riding shotgun on the seat beside me.  I love French Fry party days.  

Do you have anything you’d like to confess?

What’s your family’s version of the French Fry party?