Dinner at Denny's

One evening this past week, we found ourselves cruising up the road to a town about twenty minutes away underneath a brilliantly clear starry sky.  Our destination?  Denny's.  My husband, my son and I were taking a little road trip to find some supper and a little solace.

We opted for the two lane highway rather than the freeway.  Longer drive time.  Less traffic.  More peaceful.  More of a chance for Buster to settle down a bit and be soothed by the movement of the car.  It had been a rough afternoon.  Sometimes, when you're almost five months old, you have rough afternoons.  It happens.

We were seated in a booth in the far corner of the restaurant.  Perfect.  My husband and I both settled on the Grand Slam.  Somehow, the option to put together a breakfast-for-dinner combination of our choosing was just what our slightly frazzled nerves needed.  I chose fruit as one of my combo options.  I think that fruit always tastes better when someone else has washed and cut it for me.  Even at Denny's.

We ate, both of us taking turns distracting and entertaining Buster.  Then we packed up, got back in the car and drove home.  And on the drive home, with our little guy finally settled and sleeping in the backseat, it struck me.  We are becoming a family. I know that we are technically already a family:  a mom, a dad, and a baby.  But, at the same time, we are becoming a family.  We are developing a shared history of simple moments and struggles; car rides and meals at Denny's.

The adventurous part of my spirit delights in the process and prospect of becoming and I couldn't ask for better travel companions.