Cookie Dance

Do you remember Fuddruckers? It’s a chain of hamburger restaurants that was really big for a while. Their claim to fame was their focus on making good burgers with fresh toppings. They did a great job and really boomed for a while.

Then their quality control diminished and the chain all but disappeared.

A month or two ago, we went down to Monkey Joe’s for a morning of bouncing around. Afterwards, we went to the only Fuddrucker’s left in Central Florida (which happens to be in the same mall as Monkey Joe’s). The burgers were pretty good, but the ambience was the real draw. It’s filled with lights and mirrors, and many of the tables are so tall that even adults have to hop up to get into the chairs.

The kids loved sitting in the chairs, but the food took too long to arrive. Ten minutes of waiting for a hamburger is hard to endure, even for adults. The boys behaved great, though, keeping their wiggles to a minimum. When we were just about done, J asked the waiter if he could bring a couple of cookies back – a reward for the boys behaving so well. She was pretty smooth. Neither of the boys heard the word “cookie.”

By the time the waiter returned, however, the boys were past their limit. The three-year old was making silly noises and falling out of his chair, counting on me to catch him. His older brother was more direct. He had started an outright rebellion, sliding off his chair altogether.

“Quick!” His momma said. “Get back in your seat! You don’t want to miss dessert!”

C looked around and panicked. The waiter stood right next to him, holding an oversized cookie in each hand. C’s chair, however, was taller than he was. I saw the little guy’s dilemma. How could he get back into his chair before the waiter reached the table?

“He wasn’t leaving the table,” I said. “He was just getting ready to do the cookie dance.”

A smile popped on to the little guy’s face. He threw his hands into the air and shouted ”Yeah!”

He twirled around and started shaking his hips and stomping. His brother and I pounded on the table, trying to give him a cha-cha beat. “Cookie-cookie, Cookie!”

The waiter stopped where he was, more than a little confused.

His momma smiled. “Oohhh, the COOKIE dance. Of course, I didn’t realize.”

Our youngest slid out of his chair to join the dance.

“Cookie-cookie, COOKIE!”

“You can’t miss out on a good cookie dance,” I agreed.

“Yeah!” the boys shouted..

That last “yeah!” did the trick. Holding the cookies over his head and laughing, the waiter cha-cha’d past the dancing boys and placed the cookies on the table. My wife and I applauded and he danced away.

You just can’t resist a good cookie dance.

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