(I am a single parent with a pretty limited income. On a rare occasion, my son and I will go out to eat. This time we go to a tiny Asian place I’d seen on my way to work each day. My son is four and already a pretty decent reader. This is the sort of place where orders are placed at the counter and then brought to your table. I look at the menu on the wall and ask my son, who also seemed to be reading the board, what he’d like.)

Me: “So, what are you going to have?”

Son: “Hmmm… how… about…. some…. food…”

(I burst out laughing as did the lovely women working the counter.)

Cashier: “No worries, little man, we will bring you food.”

(For the next hour, these ladies brought him small dishes of almost everything they made.)

Them: “Try this. You’ll like this.”

Them: “What did you think? Did you like it? Try this now. You’ll like it.”

(We were sent home with a huge “doggie bag” and only charged for one meal. We’ve gone to that place at about once a month ever since. When he is home from college, it is our tradition to eat there his first night back. Some of the same women still work there. They still call him “little man,” even though he is now 6’3″ and most of them barely push the 5′ mark. If he ever gets married, I’ll have them cater the wedding.)