A Chili Reception

Hey. This is Ryan. First off, isn't my wife awesome? I had a great birthday and now know why it's important for "girls night out" every once in a while. It's to regain what little piece of sanity you have left and have grown-up conversations that don't contain the words, "diaper" and "juice" in them.

So add one more restaurant to the "Hansens Are Barred For Life" list. The Ryan Hansen family is no longer welcome at the Idaho Falls Chili's located near the Green Belt. Look for a printed digital photo of me holding Clark on my waist, pulling Luke by the arm and scooting Emma out with my foot while Ally holds up "bunny ears." It's probably located next to the reception area so as to alert any personnel to immediately shoo us out if we are to show our faces.

Because Lisha is making tips every night, this has given us a little more spending cash on hand to treat the kids every now and then. She gave me about $50 today to use at my discretion. I felt like a king. She then added one guideline: Do not see the new Disney movie "G Force." "I will not be pay money to watch hamsters for an hour and a half," she advised.

With that in mind, I tried to figure out what to do with my loot. I saved some for later, but around 2 p.m., I was getting a hankerin' for chicken fingers so I loaded the children and went to Chili's.

We shared a "Triple Play" appetizer (we chose mini hamburgers and chicken fingers with wings for me), chips and queso dip and I ordered a seperate thing of chicken fingers and fries. We all were just going to share. The kids chose drinks as well with Emma getting milk. This is where foreshadowing should be kicking in.

Have you ever heard of the gallon challenge? Basically frat boys and stupid boys challenge each other to drink a gallon of milk because supposedly you can't finish it without barfing. Emma decided she would run her own version by seeing how many times the waitress could refill her plastic cup.

We ate our meal, leaving plenty for dinner. Emma was giving me a look and I asked if she was OK. "Um, Daddy? I think I'm going to be sick."

This means man the barf stations for imminent attack in less than 10 seconds. We've come to know that when Emma says she's sick, barf isn't too far behind. I had forgotten this or something because I told Ally to help her get to the bathroom quick and that it was right around the corner. You see, the server had just given us our bill, Clark was still strapped in the seat and I didn't want her to think I had stiffed her and left the baby as a tip. I should have followed my gut, because as I was getting Clark out, Ally tore around the corner and said, "Uh, she didn't make it."

"Did she throw up?" Ally nodded and I tried looking through the booths as if I had X-ray vision. I didn't. I gathered up the baby, told Luke to stay put and went around the corner. She was near the reception area, standing in a puddle of her lunch/dinner. "Daddy ..." she tried to say as another wave came pouring out of her mouth. Amazingly, the two little receptionists did not see, hear nor smell what was going on.

"Stay there! No, go outside to the car!" I commanded, not really knowing what the protocal was. She left, sort of crying, sort of gagging and I braced myself to do the grown-up thing: run like hell. Just joking! I told the girls that my daughter had just deposited her lunch on the floor and it was, like, a gallon and a half and do you have a mop because I am so embarassed!

"Oh, sir, don't worry about it," the Receptionist Twins said in chorus. The smile melted off their faces when the wave of stench hit them and I saw it happen.

"Really, I am so sorry!" But my apologies were no good anymore. I hurried to collect Luke, the leftovers (I'm such a cheapskate!) and the to-go drinks. We scooted out, all the while dodging anyone's furtive glances. I have never been so embarassed in my life! And we're not talking a little bit of gag throw up. It was buckets.

When I got to the car, I had to start laughing. Probably to keep from crying. Chili's was my favorite restaurant. Was. And to make matters worse, I saw a student of mine dining with his parents. Luckily, he didn't see me or my hasty exit. I left the girl about $12 of a tip on the $24 bill. If there's one thing I've learned this summer is, tip your server well. It might pay for a trip to puke at your favorite restaurant.