I know, I know, it’s wrong to hate. And I know, I know, Chili’s had this huge publicity splurge when a “heroic” waitress fixed a cheeseburger for a little girl with autism. (Really? Heroic? By bringing the kid a new burger? I’d like to be a hero for swapping out a single meal…please don’t take that the wrong way – it was awesome of her to be understanding, but I just don’t think it quite qualifies as heroic…)
Now where was I?
I hate Chili’s.
I don’t suppose it’s actually their fault that I hate them.
Here’s the thing: on Sunday, we were grocery shopping. It’s a tight week for cash, so we were buying chili and Ritz crackers (I swear, they’re great together if you’ve never tried them), and Simon saw that we were buying chili. He heard us say “chili” multiple times.
And he decided that we were going to eat at Chili’s.
Even though we weren’t.
All day Sunday, Simon told us that we were going to Chili’s for dinner. We convinced him that we would do it later on in the week.
On Monday, Simon kept bringing it up. We agreed with him that, yes, we would go to Chili’s. We pointed out that he had gymnastics on Tuesday, so we would go to Chili’s on Wednesday night.
On Tuesday, Simon went to gymnastics. He told Robert, one of his coaches, that we were going to Chili’s for dinner. Robert didn’t know better. Robert agreed.
After gymnastics, I was treated to ear-splitting demands on going to Chili’s. Crying. Complaining. More crying. More complaining. Repetitious demands. It went on and on and on.
Eventually, we convinced him to wait for another day.
This morning, Patrick got Simon out of bed. Got Simon ready for school. Went over the day with him…
And Chili’s came back into the mix.
I’m about to go outside and wait for Simon’s bus.
It will be at least two hours before we to go Chili’s.
Wish me luck.