We did some running around Thursday evening and then Henry realized he had about 15 minutes to get food into our mouths before Chooch and I started to morph into our demonic alter egos from Famine Land, so he pulled into the El Campesino parking lot with a quickness.
Bunch of asses.
We had the BEST Mexican waiter, an older guy who was just a real delight, even after he had to come back FOUR times before Chooch finally settled on a taco, which is all he ever gets at Mexican restaurants anyway, so I’m not quite sure what he was trying to unearth on that menu.
While we waited for ourfood, some Yinzer man stopped as he walked past our table to commend Chooch on reading a book—he brought in his new Dan & Phik book to read at the table; why do all of these YouTubers keep putting out books? I’m doing it wrong. EL SIGH. Anyway, this guy overstayed his welcome and it was already awkward even before he started talking to us about his ex-wife and her nocturnal reading habits. But still, it was kind of nice at the same time because kids these days need all the encouragement to stay off cell phones and tablets as they can get. BOOKS R GUD, KIDZ. Even if it’s just these idiot YouTube ones. Reading is reading.
After dinner, Chooch gleefully ordered sopapillas. He’s been obsessed with sopapillas since he was about 4 or 5 I guess? It started one day when we went to King’s of all places, after roller skating, and he ordered sopapillas. I kept saying it over and over in a robust Italian accent, because why not, maybe sometimes Mario and Luigi are sick of cannoli and want a nice plate of pillowy sopapillas. You don’t know. Chooch thought this was hilarious because he’s my #1 fan (and probably also because Henry kept telling me to stop because I was being “annoying”).
So Chooch of course goes to school and starts saying “Sopapillas!” like it’s a Tourette’s tick, and some bratty girl told on him so he actually got in trouble for saying the name of a MEXICAN DESSERT.
Catholic schools, man.
It’s a huge joke with us now, because how goddamn ridiculous. Maybe Pontius Pilate was eating sopapillas when he condemned Jesus to the cross, who knows. But Chooch never passes up the chance to order them when we’re out.
Our adorable waiter repeated Chooch’s order back to him and after he walked away, Chooch closed his eyes and murmured, “Ugh, I love hearing him say that. ‘Sopapillas’…..”
And here he is with his dumb book. My favorite book when I was his age was The Westing Game and I’m determined to make him read it. (I’m always looking for recommendations for him, so feel free to comment with your faves!)