Eight hours into our 18-hour trip to grandma's house for a visit, we can see the Chick-fil-A indoor play area before we even get to the exit. It's going to lose us points on our big gay report card, but it's going to win us half an hour of peace as our two boys stop whining to climb through tunnels and their bleary-eyed moms sip hot coffee.

Chick-fil-A has been on my list of places to avoid since Dan Cathy, president and CEO, went on record indicating his support for only families that meet the "biblical definition of the family unit." Before having kids, every time there was an antigay policy or pronouncement from a business or organization—including the chairman of the Barilla pasta company or the Boy Scouts of America, which still won't accept gay troop leaders—I would boycott and spend my time and money elsewhere.

Now I'm not so much boycotting as I am raising boys, and that has put a dent in my consumer consciousness. I want to instill in the children the values and beliefs that my wife and I share: to be proud of their family. Yet on a long road trip, our two-mom, two-child family, which I support, needs a restaurant with a playground. In this case, that's Chick-fil-A.

In a perfect world, I could have driven farther along until I found a perfect alternative—perhaps a McDonald's or, better yet, a small, kid-friendly farm-to-table bistro. But that world is not pointed out via exit sign on Interstate 95, and my politics and my parenting are at odds.

In discussions about such dilemmas with friends and on Facebook , I get annoyed by the snide comments from acquaintances of my punchier political past. The knot in my stomach sometimes seems to be caused by their arrogance; yet the knot tightens when I think about where I maybe should be spending my money—but don't.