Belly Bombs

After a week of taking care of the 5-year-old and the 7-year-old while their parents vacationed in Puerto Vallerta we celebrated with dinner at Anthony’s in Seattle – with them – in the expensive dining room upstairs because I wanted choice fish.


The kids were on their best behavior. The 5-year-old ordered fish and chips and ate his fish first. For dessert he polished off dolce la leche ice cream with caramel sauce. I had to talk him out of the espresso. The 7-year-old ordered a house salad and Ivars clam chowder. She finished with Seattle chocolate chip cherry ice cream. I helped.

As we gazed out over the sound -- wondering what a slip in the harbor goes for, counting the number of rude teenagers spitting ice cubes over the side rail (4 boys and 8 girls) and musing about the pedigree of the handsome dog being walked on the wharf by his master (a French bulldog, the 7-year-old thought) we speculated the source of success of our experiment – taking the children to an expensive restaurant before collecting their parents from the airport.

Granddaughter declared it was the “good behavior and excellent taste buds” they both exhibited that made the evening a success. She went so far as to extrapolate that good behavior and well developed taste buds were probably the secret of success in life.

She was primed for this experience by her discovery that the bathroom stalls at Anthony’s each have their own sinks. She was also impressed by the cocktail dress one of the young diners was wearing, and offered her a compliment as we passed to visit the bathroom (again). The compliment was well received.

A couple of nights later we were all eating dinner at their house. My daughter served brussel sprouts – belly bombs my husband calls them. He hates them. The children each asked for a brussel sprout. The 7-year-old sided with her dad and her papa by wrinkling her nose. The 5-year-old sided with his mom and his nana by chewing, swallowing, smacking and smiling.

The conversation turned to food tastes. “I bet you like ginger and licorice too, I said to him.”

“Yes!” he said. High fives.

“So, how would this sound to you?” I asked him. “A dark chocolate covered brussel sprout dipped in Brie cheese,

“Sprinked with sea salt,” his mother added.

“With caramel sauce!” He finished.

He totally gets us.