Last week I invited my two favorite elves (my niece & nephew) over to help me decorate my newly purchased Christmas tree. (As you can see, they weren’t quite tall enough to reach the top half of the tree. But I like the way this looks, so I think I’m going to leave it this way until Christmas.)
The initial plan was to decorate and then make chicken nuggets and macaroni and cheese. But the closer we got to dinner, the more I started thinking “That’s no fun! We need to go somewhere cool. Somewhere in the city. Somewhere they’ve never been before!” so I started naming some restaurants that I thought might appeal to them, based on menu and/or ambiance. They both liked the sound of “Grinders” which was great for me, because I had a hankering for tator tots. Mmmm. I love tator tots.
After we decided on Grinders, my nephew said “I want tacos!” and wouldn’t you know that it was taco night at Grinders! Three tacos for a buck! I had never had their tacos before, so this definitely excited me. We all decided we were going to eat tacos. And tator tots.
When our tacos arrived, both kids stared at their trays, looked at our server and then politely waited until he walked away before they turned to me and firmly stated “Those aren’t tacos. Those are quesadillas.” They said it in a voice like “Katie, you are a total dumbass if you think these are tacos. These are totally quesadillas.” And I just sat there. Because, honestly, yeah, I had to agree: They looked like quesadillas.
I did my best to bullshit my way into explaining why these were tacos and they were really good and the kids should really eat what we ordered. But, man! They really didn’t look like tacos. And, it turns out, my four year old nephew really just wanted a tortilla with shredded cheese. These tacos had ground beef and cheese all nice and melted together. I watched as he tried to pick cheese out of the meat with his fork and eventually I leaned over and said “would you rather have a piece of pizza?”
Thank goodness for the pizza. And the tator tots. And the eyeball above our table that held their attention long enough that I think they may have gotten over the disappointment of what was supposed to be a taco.
All in all, we had a good time. And that is all that matters.
Happy Taco Tuesday! (But get a real taco. Not a quesadilla.)