My baby girl turned 16 today. My dad drove down from Egypt, Arkansas, to spend the afternoon and evening with her – and take her out to dinner.
Her choice of restaurant.
Well, no. None of the above.
We ate dinner at Waffle House. Really. And party of five (Fiona, my dad, Simon, Fiona’ boyfriend Branden, and me) doesn’t quite fit in a booth at Waffle House, but we squeezed in and made do.
“It’s our thing,” Fiona said. “That’s where Poppy and I always go.”
Ah well. It’s her birthday, not mine. And she enjoyed it.
That’s the main thing.