That’s the difference

Carrot had seven days in a row of stellar bedtimes, and earned herself a trip to a place she’s been begging to go—Old C.ountry Buf.fet.

If our lives were on a reality show (Ne.ver. Go.ing. To. Hap.pen.) the drive to the restaurant was a great scene. Carrot told me all of the other times she was at the restaurant, and “wondered if they will recognize me.”

We were headed to the children’s museum after, and Carrot said, “You are members at the [Children’s Museum] and [previous foster mom] is a member at Old C.ountry Buffet.” 

Yeah, that pretty much sums up the difference.

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About EratMama

30 something midwestern gal, married to another 30 something midwestern gal, conquering depression, rockin' foster parent.
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2 Responses to That’s the difference

  1. Alison says:

    that is priceless.
    I love you took her to the Old Country Buffet. 🙂

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