This face.  Who chooses a dang RAT as the mascot for their restaurant!?  You know who…  It’s every kids’ fave and every mommy’s personal hell.

At least it’s my personal hell.  I mean don’t get me wrong, it’s never too early to introduce your child to poor nutrition and gambling, but could they at least offer something besides a $5.00 Miller Lite for me to take the edge off?

So my six year old son’s basketball team recently culminated  their fabulous season with a trip to the (I can hardly say it) restaurant with the rat for a mascot.

I didn’t want to go.  I loved my son’s basketball season.  Loved his coaches and all the other players.  Wanted so badly to be a team player… but on a dark and rainy school night, after a rather hectic day, Up-chucky’s Sleeze was just not calling my name.

Enter: Mike.  Like a gallant knight on a white horse, like Tarzan swinging through the jungle (kitchen, whatever) on a vine, he strode in the door, took one look at the expression on my face and, like a 15 year seasoned spouse stated “I’ll take the kids tonight.  Why don’t you stay at home.”

Are you kidding me?  Did I really marry this well?  I did!  I REALLY DID!  It’s true! (man I’m smart.)

Now only the four most important people in my life will be off consuming the fude (well it’s not food) the “rat”-urant serves to its sensory over-loaded patrons, after I fed them a hearty bowl of vegetable soup on their way out the door, of course.  But at least I was off the hook.  I was saved!   SAVED!

Thanks, Love.  You’re the best.