Not telling PtB's story

First let me thank you for the suggestions you offered to counter my blog-block issue.

A special thanks to Pat the Bunny, my dear mother-in-law, who so graciously gave me permission to relay her incident at the Chik-fil-a.

But being the kind and thoughtful daughter that I am, I would never dream of embarrassing her in such a way.

I mean, it was embarrassing enough when she slipped on a wet part of the floor in a manner in which I've only seen cartoon characters fall.

Like when their feet slip out from underneath them and they lose all contact with the ground momentarily before landing flat on their backs.

I certainly wouldn't mention that she may or may not have had two fists full of salt packets at the time that went raining all over the restaurant like a ticker tape parade.
(I believe I've told you before that PtB has a salt addiction.)

People.
There is nothing funny about a grandma taking a fall.
Nothing at all.

Except maybe for a second when Josh looked over in our direction from the toddler play area, couldn't see his mother (who was lying on the floor), and only saw flying salt packets.

That was mildly amusing.

But since there is not much that is funny about a grandma biting it in a Chik-fil-a, I will take the high road and not tell that story.

So thanks, PtB, but I wouldn't through you under the bus like that.

I'll just have to keep plugging away at things to blog about...