I was in dinner Heaven.  The Goodness Coffee Shop was serving their glorious Chicago Dogs and one was waiting for me.  All that stood in my way, all that stood between me and my Chicago Dog dinner was my children, who every now and then required because-we-are-in-a-restaurant-we-feel-it-necessary-to-be-at-least-somewhat-needy assistance.  To their credit, they were being very well behaved, but this was an issue of me and my dinner.  Kids, really?  Step aside…  please, my Chicago Dog awaits.

“Dad, could you help with the ketchup (to his credit it was one of those little ketchup packets that I use my don’t-tell-my-dentist teeth to open)?”

“Dad, can I have another hot dog and some more chips (because at this very moment I appear to be going through a Chicago Dog inspired growth spurt)?”

“Dad, where is the bathroom?”  Followed shortly by, “Where did Sam go?  He left without us.”  The answer being, “He went to the bathroom.”  Then followed by a much longer string of explanations, because “He went to the bathroom” did not supply adequate information regarding Sam’s whereabouts or the reason for his departure.

Then my favorite question, one which at the same time baffled me on many levels and also lured me in, “Dad, can you help me?  I dropped a chip in my drink.”  Sure enough, floating on the surface of my 6-year-old son Ben’s blueberry flavored water was a potato chip.  Now to my credit, I really wanted to sit down and enjoy my Chicago Dog, so I was distracted and not really thinking straight.  In fact, it did not cross my mind, until I started to write about it, that I could have just fished out the chip with a utensil.  Ah, the solutions that come to you, after a good night’s rest.  Instead, I was somewhat confused by the situation.  How did what appeared to be a regular sized potato chip get inside a water bottle that has only a 1 1/8^th inch diameter opening?  Was the chip going to his mouth and then dropped in?  Was the chip in his mouth when he took a drink?  Was my Chicago Dog getting cold?

Not thinking straight and yet to get a good night’s rest and think of the utensil solution, I suggested that Ben simply “drink” the chip out of the bottle.  That is when, he reminded me of the simple but forgotten law of water bottle tides, “I have tried that, but it keeps going to the other side of the bottle.”  Ah, yes the fleeing chip conundrum.  A chip adrift on an ocean of blueberry infused water tastiness.

That is the moment, I suffered my fatal flaw.  The flaw to which I so often fall victim.  I switched from “helpful dad” to “wisecracking dad.”  Perhaps it was my hunger, perhaps it was my desire to have a big drink of the blueberry water, but most likely I think it is a cause buried deep within my DNA that made me say, “I can drink all of the water and then only the chip will be left.”  Fortunately, young Ben suffers from the same DNA flaw and appreciated my smart-aleck response.  Giving a sly grin, he seemed satisfied.  Ben would now release his father to indulge in Chicago Dog bliss, while he remained victim to the whims of sloshing blueberry drink.  The chip would remain adrift.

I consider it a family tradition to take photos with our Chicago Dog dinners.  My kids, on the other hand, appear to be suffering from an overexcited father’s desire to document each Chicago Dog meal.  My efforts did however yield one very telling sign of the evening ahead.  Note the blueberry water (circled and prominently sitting in the middle of the photo) with its foe, the bag of chips, ready to dive in.