Cafe Rio

Big Big News. Cafe Rio came to the Ford's in Denver. 

5 minutes away.

Heaven? Yes!

On Tuesday I took the kids there for their last lunch before school, (or jail...whatever you wanna call it) started on Wednesday.

Of course we had to wait in line.

Jake was climbing on the food partition grabbing lids under the 1 inch gap between the window and the counter. He started throwing them at Naomi and Luke.

Will was climbing on the wooden beams that held our spot in line.

He fell.

Hard.

Luke was throwing his head back and so I put him on the floor to crawl.

He crawled around in line pulling on people's pant legs. 

I sat there with a smile on my face. 

I have learned that in these situations you musn't show signs of concern. Then people get nervous. 

They worry about your mental health. 

And I don't need more people than me worrying about that. I've got that down.

At one point a man who was behind me in line smiled and said,

"yeah...I think you should have 4 more."

Obviously bewildered why I had 4 in the first place.

Another lady, a career woman...obviously.

She was dressed like a million bucks. And had on white pants.

Pressed white pants.

That's like a siren that the woman doesn't typically go to Cafe Rio with her four children.

Women who go to Cafe Rio with 4 children don't have the luxury of wearing white pants.

Much less ironed white pants. We don't really iron. Unless someone like our mom tells us our kids clothes are looking a bit wrinkly and offer to iron them for us. Then we know we better reprioratize something. Not sure what. But something.

This white ironed pant woman leaned over and whispered something in my ear.

I'll never forget it.

She quietly said,

"I sure hope you're medicated."

Wow. I thought the smile on my face as I stood in line with my 4 kids vandalizing the place was enough proof that I didn't need to be medicated. 

Ah, well.

Next time I'm determined to pull it off a little better.

Maybe I'll wear pressed white pants.