Tummy apes

The person who good-intentionally corrects my kids when they say, "tummy apes" instead of "tummy aches" will hear from me. Most kids get tummy aches, mine get tummy apes.

We want pancakes. Even if that means tummy apes. Let's go someplace with five different kinds of syrup and swirly, snowy whipped cream and happy yellow eggs and bottomless coffee cups and place mats to color and spinning posters hanging from the acoustic tiles. A place with a whole battalion of newspaper boxes in front, because this place means breakfast. A place where weekend-custody dads let the kids have ice cream, even if they didn't touch the scrambled eggs. And please, no servers from a superior gene pool to make me switch from Swedish pancakes to, "Oh, just some fruit, please". No, we want a server named Ramone, who jokes with the kids and suggests, "Hot cocoa?". That's what we want.

These are a few favorite waiting-for-the-food-to-come games:

Make a squiggly worm: Slide the wrapper from the straw so that is all scrunched up as tightly as possible. Drop water onto the wrapper and watch the worm wiggle.

"What's missing?": Okay, everybody, look carefully at everything on the table. Now close your eyes. Okay, open them. What's missing?

Napkin critter: Take a square paper napkin and twist the corners to make a little hat thingy. Place the hat thingy over a whole lemon. Push the little critter around the table.

Got any more?