On Amy’s birthday in December,
she and her dad found a Vietnamese restaurant
in St. George that is the best ever.
We go whenever possible.
After our early morning walk,
a nice swim, the weight room,
cleaning and packing,
we decided to stop there
on our way out of St. George.
It’s 4 PM.
Ed eats on a schedule.
Breakfast at 9; lunch at 1; and dinner at 6.
At the restaurant,
he wouldn’t eat a bite.
He wouldn’t even taste it.
It’s not time.
As we travel along,
eventually 6 o’clock comes.
Why didn’t I take 5 minutes
to make him a peanut butter sandwich?
Amy won’t let him eat a banana in her car.
What to do?
“We can stop in Beaver and get a burrito,”
Amy suggests.
But it’s 6 PM right
now.
“Do you have a knife
in the car, Amy?”
“No.”
“Do you have paper plates or paper towels?”
“No.”
“Do you have a spoon?”
“No. Why would I?”
I would say she’s not very prepared
for this emergency.
DeRay sent down some gluten-free biscuits
that by now are old and dry.
I used my new bookmark to saw
the biscuit, ham, and cheese,
and to scoop out some yogurt
so it wouldn’t be so dry.
I put some unwashed lettuce from the garden on it,
took the lid off the cake pan to use for a plate.
I guess he was hungry.
He ate every bite
and we didn’t have to stop
in Beaver for a burrito!
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