Today, I took the boys out to lunch and to see Santa. We went to the Nordstrom cafe -- where nothing bad can ever happen! -- and had a very pleasant meal together. Everyone ate their food, nobody spazzed out, and it was all good. Well, I did have to threaten them through clenched teeth several times to "stop it!" And I ordered a Chardonnay alongside my peach iced tea. But other than that, everything went smoothly.
At Nordstrom cafes, you order at the outset and pay, then you're seated, and at the end of the meal, your server, with whom you have minimal contact, gives you a copy of the bill as a friendly little reminder, and you leave a tip.
I only had three dollars on me, but I knew that my 5-year-old had a pocket full of dollar bills, so I asked him if I could have two. He said no.
So I asked again.
He said no.
So I pleaded, and promised that I'd pay him back when we got home. "Just two dollars!" I whined.
I could've gotten a billion-dollar bail-out easier from some people. We stared each other down, me furrowing my brow.
In a sort of exasperated manner, he reached into his trouser pocket and said, "Hang on, let me get my credit card."
He had one of those fake American Express cards that they send you when they solicit your business in the mail! And it was platinum. I wonder if he can get us fake concert tickets to a fake Streisand show.
Just to clarify: the goal of the day was to shop for Christmas presents, so his money was from his birthday stash -- all $1 dollar bills + the AmEx Platinum. Yet the boys deemed Nordstrom and the entire International Plaza, save for RadioShack, unsuitable and boring. "There's only clothes here. Aren't we going to Target?"