I like weekends.

We do things that need a lot of time to do them. Time to wander around and see things we don’t normally see. Our adventure last weekend? The Cracker Barrel.

Some of you wouldn’t probably consider that an adventure. But any outing with two young boys with fancy rock star hair and fancy collared shirts who are hungry and it’s already 9 a.m. and then you need to wait until nearly 10 a.m. to actually get a table and then another 30 minutes to receive any type of food yes any type at all…well, that’s an adventure.

We got ’em into the swing of hanging out on the porch just whilin’ away the blues for a while.

“A while” when you’re one and five years old is, oh, about 10 minutes. And then you need to do something different. And wandering around inside The Cracka Barrel is a little like being ON crack. But only if you eat all of the candy, which much to the boys’ dismay, we did not. We did, however, find this gross fish that when squeezed squishes out a green goo filled with worms. If I would have eaten any cookies by this point in the day, I would have lost them right then and there.

But it kept both boys occupied for quite some time, so the nauseating thing was well worth it. Bleh.

And why, you may ask, did we choose The Cracker Barrel? We were meeting my sister and brother-in-law as they passed through Colorado on their way to Wyoming, Montana, and Utah on their well-deserved vaca.

And my sis ever so kindly took a picture of us, surviving the mayhem of little hungry bellies like the champs that we are.

Then she trained Holden in the strange little games that are placed on the tables there. I don’t know what this one’s called, but he learned to cheat at it pretty quickly. He’s a studious one.

Tricky.

Soon after, the food arrived and was attacked. And a few biscuits with jelly and lots of eggs and fruit and pancakes later, their little bellies were filled up and ready to go.

Thank the Lord. Really. Thank Him. Because it saved us.

Probably also saved that cracker place, too.

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