The Hard Rock Cafe, Philadelphia, was the best choice we could have made for our post-theater meal. Basically a burgers joint with a pretty decent bar and a rock memorabilia theme, we had onion rings, nachos, and burgers, except for me (decent fajitas) and the lads (spaghetti for William, who will eat almost anything, and a small pepperoni pizza for Alex, who eats amost nothing.)
We had a great server, knowledgable both in how to work a table and Rock and Roll. Good combination, given where he works.
Which brings us back to one of the real problems: Alex's eating habits. I don't know what kind of breakfast he had. I can report that, after we left their house in Maryland (about 10:00 or so), der B and I witnessed him consume:
A candy bar
A Coke
One onion ring (with ketchup)
Three french fries (no ketchup)
Two bites of his pizza, and one piece of pepperoni
(removed from said pizza)
One piece of hard candy
One cupcake
And half of an ice cream cone.
This is a kid eight-and-a-half years old! And he's in the middle of a growth spurt! And all he's consuming is sugar and easily-converted-to-sugar starches!
And his parents are allowing this! "Well, you
can't expect a kid to eat what he doesn't
want to!" is Mommy's explanation. (Daddy rolls his eyes at this, but has been worn down too far to fight her by now.)
This is a kid who gets top grades, and is regarded at his school as an absolute phenomenon. But he
will not eat!
And no, it doesn't help when I compare how Mommy feeds him (big joke) with how my own mother took care of me. Mommy works, and cannot be expected to cook a decent meal for her children. (Actually, it's Daddy who does most of the cooking, she just doesn't control Alex at the table, or can't be bothered.)
The red flags are flying, and der Grampa and I are not at all happy.
