When your grown child takes you out to dinner using the funds from her first full-time job paycheck, you know you’ve done something right. I think that’s a pretty good litmus test for excellent parenting.
I had this kid when I was 19. She threw more than her fair share of temper tantrums growing up. Her car is home to no less than three abandoned fast food wrappers at any given time. And she’s good for mixing in a boatload of sugar into tea and other unsweetened beverages. But she couldn’t be sweeter and more in love with her family. And the fact that the first thing she wanted to do once she got paid was to treat us to dinner makes her pretty dang cool.
Of course, the baby in the family got to pick the restaurant – a regular of hers: The Attic. The family did gumbo, turkey meatloaf, a burger, and – of course – the hot Cheetos mac ‘n cheese. I thought it felt right to sup on their fried chicken dinner. It’s not my usual go-to plate, but it sounded nice. Not sure if I’d do the chicken again, but I might choose the gravied and buttered mashed potatoes that were served alongside if and when I was ever sentenced to a deserted island. I’d call them dreamy. And my bourbon-laden “Granddads” lemonade got me all warm and silly. Well really, I’m already warm and silly, but it turned me up a few notches (while being absolutely refreshing).
It ‘twas indeed a tasty and wonderful evening. Thanks, kid. (Now, if I could only get her to clean that car.)
The Attic in Long Beach