Chaos theory hits kids night at Perkins

One morning about three weeks ago I went out to the garage to retrieve a Lean Pocket for lunch and found the door to the deep freeze ajar. There was a huge puddle beneath the freezer that indicated the door had been ajar for some time. Most of the meat had thawed but was still cool to the touch so I chose to toss only those things which would endanger our lives if we re-froze them and thawed them again (scallops, anyone?)

I did not toss the chicken. I had two five-pound bags of boneless, skinless chicken breasts in that freezer that I did not want to lose. Common sense usually dictates that one not refreeze meat that has been thawed, but sometimes frugality trumps common sense and you roll the dice and hope it all works out.

Let me put your minds at ease by telling you this is not a story that winds up with one or all of us lying prone and miserable on the bathroom floor. Our stomachs and bowels are all peacefully intact, however I’m quite sure if I had been yakking my guts out I would have had considerably more fun than I had at Perkins with my daughter last night.

But let me go back to that chicken first. Last week I wanted grilled chicken for dinner and went down to the deep freeze to retrieve a few breasts. I pulled out one of the five-pound bags and found I could not extract just the few breasts I wanted to cook because they had all fused together when they froze again.

Since I had no choice but to thaw all five pounds of the chicken, I cooked what I needed and stuck the rest in the fridge to steep in various marinades. A few days ago we grilled the chicken for meals later in the week. Chicken salads were on the menu for dinner last night until I pulled out the untouched bag of Andy Boy romaine hearts and realized they had all browned. You suck, Andy Boy. Thanks for wasting my money.

Even though we had plenty of other options for meals at home, the easiest of which being stick the chicken in the microwave and throw some rice in the rice cooker, Nathan and I decided to eat out. We mulled over where to go until we realized it was Thursday and kids eat free at Perkins on Thursday. So to Perkins we went and that’s when the fun began.

Instead of a detailed synopsis of the dinner and the complete embarrassment we felt by claiming the child as ours, let me just list the things Autumn threw on the ground or across the table:

• The children’s menu
• A paper place mat
• An orange crayon
• A green crayon
• A tub of creamer
• Rice
• Her spoon

When she started reaching for handfuls of macaroni and cheese, we felt it was time to call it quits and pulled her plate away to have it boxed up. That resulted in cries of anguish and more frantic reaching across the table for things she could toss. I grabbed her wrists firmly in my hands and told her to STOP. IT. NOW. Oh the meltdown. Screams and tears and wails erupted for a good two minutes. Those poor Perkins diners. I almost feel compelled to reimburse them for their meals, but I guess that’s what you get for visiting on a night kids eat free.

Being the philosophical one of the bunch, I reasoned that Nathan and I were either reaping some wicked bad karma or just needed a reminder that dining out is one of those luxuries we can do without. I’m going to go with the latter because there’s also a third option that’s just too painful to consider; that my child is turning into a spoiled rotten brat. Lord, help us.

So there you have it, folks. The story of how a freezer door left open a few weeks ago resulted in an unpleasant dining experience for multiple families last night. I believe that’s what’s called the butterfly effect.