This afternoon I took my kids to Chick-Fil-A. My daughter, Vera, took her first nap of the month while we were driving to Chicken Heaven. I captured this image of her during my 10 second drive thru wait:
When we got home, we pulled into the driveway and Sleeping Beauty arose from her 20 minute slumber. She wasn’t happy.
First off, she was mad “We didn’t go to Chick-Fil-A,” which we did. Then she was upset that I didn’t get her chocolate milk. I dodged a bullet with this one, reminding her I had chocolate milk in the house. As we walked in, she got increasingly concerned I didn’t get her ranch for her chicken nuggets, which I did not. Simple, we also have ranch in the house. Not going to work this time… she wanted “CHICK-FIL-A RANCH!”
I was in a pickle. I had to think quick before I lost her for the rest of the day. I tried to push through by dumping some of our “house ranch” on her plate. Not going to work, she didn’t want our nasty, used, second-rate citizen version of Hidden Valley. She wanted the good stuff. That straight-from-Atlanta pre packaged buttermilk ounce of euphoria. Who could blame her?
Then it hit me. I grabbed one of the signature Chick-Fil-A sauces out of the bag and dumped the contents out in the sink. I washed out the remnants, and filled the plastic container with our ranch. She was 100% faked out.
She even explained to me that this new ranch that she thought I magically found in the fridge was better than the ranch I tried to serve her originally. I felt like a genius, but also felt like I deceived my child. Hopefully someday she will read this and realize I was only trying to make her happy! And it worked.