We talked about where to get a hamburger. We were headed to the lake. Burger King sounded good to him. I asked if he'd ever been to the Blue Bird. "What's that grandma," he questioned? I gave him the low down on my favorite restaurant and how they make the finest burgers in Logan.
"Do they give you fries, he wanted to know? It was an viable question.
We drove straight there, went in and sat down. Our seats were familiar, I'm a regular at the Blue Bird. The waitress took our order and brought us out some nice warm rolls. That's when I learned a few things.
"I know how to butter my own roll, all by myself, grandma." His declaration was backed up by proof, but I could see it took serious concentration.
Our food came. I had the Blue Bird Burger. Corbin ordered one grilled cheese sandwich with a mountain of fries. It even came with a big long knobby dill pickle, which clearly impressed him.
The conversation was warm like the atmosphere in the worn rustic room. We dipped our fries and chatted over everything. I was informed about serious opinions, like how, although he thought the food was really good, was I aware Burger King has crowns. I took that into consideration, but then I expounded on how the Blue Bird has giant pinwheel suckers, and I pointed them out. That's when all opinions about Burger King changed.
There is nothing like good company while savoring good food.
On the way out we bought chocolates and good things made of pure sugar. Then we paid the bill and made our way to the back. As we walked, Corbin reached up and grabbed hold of my pinky finger. For a grandma, that's always the best part, the moments when a little hand is wrapped around part of mine. I pushed open the door and a cold gust greeted us abruptly.
"Grandma," his eyes were looking up at me now. "Ya Corbs," I zipped his coat a little tighter. "I think this is my favorite restaurant too."
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