Dear Yacht Rockers:

Last night, we ended up at a family dining chain restaurant (I’d rather not say as I am ASHAMED) after a good, but exhausting day.  We eat. The glasses are too small and I spend I great deal of time prairie dogging for our server’s attention. I am a thirsty, thirsty person. I spent the rest of my time staring at one of the many television dispersed throughout the establishment for the convenience of diners who just can’t stand to speak to one another. I did want to speak to my fellow diners, but when I am am tired I become a television zombie. The show was about a young surfer on the mend after having brain tumors. Or strokes. I can’t say since there was no volume and I can’t read MRI scans. Yes, I watched a documentary on mute.

The wee one, after the exciting game of punch holes in the styrofoam cup full of milk, was pretty relaxed.  She had been subjected to group songs inside, group play outside, and family errands. Enough to wear anyone out. In the middle of dinner, she started dancing in her high chair. I noticed that a new song on the public address system had started. There are two things of note about this:

  1. The restaurant was loud. I am often times the only person in a group who can even hear piped music over a crowd. I can’t hear what the person next to me is saying, but I can pick out the base line of most pop and many country songs.
  2. The song was Michael McDonald’s What a Fool Believes

What is scarier? Her having to inherit my hearing (or lack of practical hearing) or being a blue-eyed-soul fan (she is too young to understand irony)?

Troubled,

Mama P

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