If being a parent has taught me anything, other than informing me that in one certain person’s view I am exceedingly lazy and to be forever punished accordingly, it has bestowed upon me certain gifts in the delicate art of conflict mediation. I have two boys, you see, and once in a long while, they can’t quite seem to get along.
At the restaurant I have another set of boys, and, as at home, each competes for my affection and approval. Understandably. It is also much like home in that I am not moved by mediocrity. If you make a bed, I’d better be able to flip a coin on it. If you want me to tape your drawing to the fridge, I expect a museum piece. And I am disdainful of fart noises unless they emanate from me. So… Mark and Ted are currently at each other’s throats. It is constant, and it is vicious. They have some petty grievance over whose fish specials get more “likes” on our facebook page. It’s not yet come to blows, but I fear not that it might, but that it will. And this is where my parenting skills kick in. Should the rivalry get too heated, when I see veins popping in their foreheads, nostrils flared, saliva dripping down their chins, I’ll promptly leave the room and check my email.
So on top there is a quick collection of some of the specials prompting this childish, alpha male display this week, and between you and me, I’d don’t know what the fuss is about. It’s not like I’m taping any of these to my fridge.
Oh, and Mark and Ted - one of you is my favorite.