Indulging Dad on Father's Day

All you can eat restaurants feed off the idea that the consumer is getting a bargain. My husband, a restaurant owner himself, is the biggest sucker of them all. All he can eat to him simply gives him the challenge of getting the biggest bang for his buck. He is determined to eat more than he paid for which is usually enough for a small colony. For his birthday and Father’s Day I try to be a sport and together with our teenagers in tow, we make the dreaded trek to watch him eat like a bear out of hibernation.
I’ll never forget the day I had to step over somebody’s foreboding “up chuck” (like my mother calls it) at the front door of one of these restaurants.
Entering the dining room and observing the patrons, I didn’t see how this place makes any money. There appear to be many regulars who are parked here for the day. How does that work I wonder? Do they pay every few hours? They are surely eating more often than that. I was secretly thankful we live too far to come here very often.
Dining at these places doesn’t even provide quality family time as one of us is always popping up in search of more grub. Soon my hubby is standing up, rubbing his expanding belly. He scopes the room to see what he hasn’t tried yet. Somehow, there is always something. He encourages me to get some more. This is a catch 22. If I get more food that I don’t want, I’m not going to feel well. If I don’t, he will feel that now he has to get my money’s worth too. I get up to get some cherry cobbler and eat it slowly.
This whole process brings to mind something I saw our dog, Maggie, doing the other day. She is on a special diet that we never stick to. She is well fed. I cook her her own oven stuffer roaster once a week and she has that with her special dog food. And then to make sure she isn’t deprived, she gets the last bite from most everything we eat. Even with all that, the other day I found her chowing down on the turning green leftovers I had just thrown out and carelessly left on the patio. She wasn’t hungry. But neither was my hubby after the second plate but both continue to eat regardless of good sense or consequences.

Leaving the restaurant, the kids roar with laughter as their father, now doubled over, hands me the keys while making cave man noises. Slowly and gently he maneuvered himself into the car. I am disgusted.
Sarcastically, I asked him if he would like to stop for ice cream. More cave man noises. Of course he fell asleep on the way home, his body in overload trying to figure out how to digest dinner. When we got home we guided our engorged patriarch to his easy chair and turned on a baseball game so he could continue napping.
Not unlike the dog, the next day was filled with regret. Though Maggie never said she was sorry for eating trash, and the husband never said he maybe shouldn’t have eaten from every single steam table, both paid for their gluttony the next day by making many unexpected “runs” to their respective bathrooms. And next year, we will do it again for the love of the daddy.
Happy Father’s Day