What’s for Dinner: French Fry Friday


My husband is often not home for dinner on Friday nights, so I have declared Friday to be French Fry Friday. This means my son and I go out for fast food, usually McDonald’s.

Those people at McDonald’s truly are marketing geniuses. My son learned to recognize those golden arches somewhere around his first birthday. Back then we rarely went to McDonald’s, and when we did we ordered something healthy for him like apple dippers, never french fries. As new parents we were determined not to stuff him full of junk food. It only took one or two visits before he started getting excited and pointing whenever we drove by a McDonald’s. Of course that ideal of feeding him only healthy food long since went out the window along with the plans to only let him watch one hour of television a day and to never give him sweets before bedtime.

Usually we go in to eat and I let him run around in the Playland. Wi-Fi has come even to our small town, and I can blog while he plays. It’s a nice break from a long day without Daddie. Tonight I was tired, so we went through the drive through and came home to watch movies.

It’s fun to bond with him over fries and hamburgers. He talks to me and we laugh together. He just started saying, “Mommie, I want to tell you a story. One day there was…,’ and he goes off into a monologue about a dinosaur or monster that’s he conjured up in his imagination.  He’s three now and I know these French Fry Fridays will be over sooner than I want. He’ll be sharing ketchup with some girl on Friday night instead of me in a few years. I cherish these days. French fries may not be good for the arteries, but they’re good for the soul.


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