Dinner Wars Part 2 and a series of unfortunate events.

Last night I began devising a strategy to end the dinner wars forever. Phase one of the strategy was simple: get people excited about dinner. And for this, my friends, I had a fail-proof plan.

My daughters are crazy about Fancy Nancy. My mother sent them a Fancy Nancy book on CD, and they both have it memorized. On seeing this doll for the first time at Walmart, Claire giddily yelled, "MOM! LOOK! IT'S FANCY NANCY AT THE MUSEUM BY JANE O'CONNOR!!"

I kid you not.

So I prepared a Fancy Nancy theme dinner. I wanted the dinner to be just healthier than their favorites (I know, setting the bar crazy high here), but wanted the food to be familiar enough that they could still be excited. I settled on a simple menu: cucumber sandwiches, egg salad sandwiches, a green salad, and hot chocolate. Weird. But edible.

I was cutting the sandwiches into tiny, crustless little squares when I noticed silence. I searched for Claire, ultimately finding this:



I was bummed. But not too bummed. I thought I would let her sleep a while and then wake her to get dressed up for our fancy dinner.

I shortly learned that she would not be woken up. From the previous picture you may recognize that the item she is resting so comfortably on is a ROCKING recliner. It probably swayed with her every heartbeat.

At some point, it must have swayed too much, because I arrived back to check on her and found her like this:


... Still asleep. Brad tried to wake her up. So did Grace. No luck. Eventually I succumbed to the realization that our dinner would be short one serious Fancy Nancy fan. I reluctantly told Grace that we couldn't wait for Claire and that it was time for her to get Fancy like Nancy.

She was, as I'm sure you can imagine, completely elated. She requested my expert advice on her attire, and then scuttled off to the bathroom to apply some glittery make up.

Brad was helping me set the table when we heard a sharp piercing scream. We found Grace, cradling her head on the floor of the bathroom tile. She had fallen off the vanity, hit her head on the toilet, and was nursing this:



Usually Grace is not allowed out of the house with make-up on. But considering the circumstances, we carried her to the car anyway along with our two other children (Claire still sleeping) and drove to the ER.

Thankfully, Friday night is one of the least busy nights in the ER, because as it was we waited for an hour.

Here is Grace waiting for her stitches. Look at that outfit.




This girl is brave. Picture four pricks of lidocaine and three stitches, each of which she seems able to feel completely. Envision no screaming. The kid had silent tears streaming through her blush and eyeshadow and was squeezing my hand and clenching every other part of her body in intense rigidity. She. Was. A. Champ.

I promised her ice cream. We held hands and walked around the parking lot waiting for daddy to return from a poorly timed run to Subway. When he came, Claire and Weston still asleep, we stopped at McDonalds for a chocolate shake for Grace. As we pulled away from the place, Claire decided to wake up. Great timing.

After Grace shared her shake with Claire and Brad finished his sub, we got home and sat down to eat our Fancy meal.

It was 8:00. No one was very hungry (except maybe me). And almost nothing got eaten.


Oh well.