MOM’S WRONG MEAL
To make the last night of our eight-week cross-country vacation really special, we decided to have dinner at El Tovar on the South Rim of the Grand Canyon before heading home the next day. My husband and I, our seven-year-old son, and four-year-old daughter were seated in the hotel’s beautiful old dining room relaxed and reflecting on our travels. But, typical of our daughter, she began asking me if I had something of hers in my handbag. “Sue, could I have just one meal without your being at me?” I pleaded. “Sure, Mom, but not this one.” From Ann Cleland, Irvine, California, Arizona Highways, October 1992, pg. 50
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