Don't Overthink It - Anne Bogel Page 0,52

from our city to theirs. We were over the moon when they announced plans to come stay with us for a week-long visit.

Their last night in town, we planned to stay in. Friday night is our regular pizza night, so we ordered in, early, to accommodate a visiting toddler’s schedule. As I cleaned up after dinner, I grabbed my phone for a quick email check; we’d been out and about all day and I wanted to make sure I didn’t have any fires to put out before the weekend. Work looked to be in good shape, but another message caught my eye.

For over a year, Will and I had been waiting for a new business to open in our old neighborhood: a combo coffee shop and Popsicle stand that the whole family couldn’t wait to patronize, albeit for different reasons. The construction permits hadn’t come through as planned, resulting in delay after delay. But now, right there in my email, was the news: they were opening that night for the first time. Just for a few hours, to friends and family only. And Popsicles were free for all.

The kitchen clock read 8:15. We could afford free Popsicles, but could we afford to keep everyone up so late? It was a little past my youngest child’s bedtime and well past when my cousin’s three-year-old should have been asleep. If we left the house then, everyone would be up too late. But the next day my cousin and her family would fly back to California. I was missing them before they’d even left, and besides—wouldn’t the time change mess with their body clocks anyway? One last late night wouldn’t be the end of us.

I quietly asked my cousin, “Are you up for a dessert run?” Surprised by the question, she looked first at the clock and then her daughter and said, “Why not?” She whispered to her husband, who shrugged, saying, “It’s the last night. Let’s go.” We piled everyone into our minivan and drove to the new Popsicle store.

The place was packed with happy customers, but because nobody had to pay, the line went fast. The real holdup was deciding which flavor to try: passion fruit, strawberry lemonade, or cookies and cream? We lucked into a too-small booth and piled in, enjoying our free Popsicles. The owner made the rounds, asking how we liked our treats and urging us to try another flavor—or even two. “Go back as many times as you want,” he said, so we made a return trip to the counter. My teenage son thought he’d died and gone to heaven. We laughed, attempting to try all the flavors by sharing bites across the table. We went to bed too late, way outside our usual routine.

It is my favorite memory from that week.

To New Experiences

Now when I’m deciding whether to splurge, it’s all about the experience. And when it came to the kids and our fancy dinner out, I was hoping for unforgettable.

Will said, “Even if it’s not the best dinner they’ve ever had, don’t you think they’ll remember it?”

Of course they would. I was sure of it. And that allowed my frazzled brain to relax.

A few weeks after I panicked about the confirmation email, we packed our bags and headed to Chicago. On our final night in town, we dressed up and went to the restaurant. We coached the kids in advance. “The goal isn’t necessarily to enjoy everything,” we told them, “but to notice what’s interesting. Don’t expect it to be the best food you’ve ever eaten, but notice what’s memorable. Pay attention to not just how it tastes, but also how it looks and smells and sounds.”

And because kids will be kids, we added, “And no potty jokes.”

I was skittish about taking them, but when we walked through the door, the host’s eyes lit up immediately upon seeing someone, anyone, younger than thirty. We sat down at a table set with a chilled silver bowl at its center—the kind my grandmother used to have—piled high with oranges, rosemary, and other herbs I couldn’t identify. (An hour later, a server would carefully pour hot water straight into the centerpiece, sending aromatic steam billowing into the air around us.)

They poured champagne for the adults and procured sparkling apple cider for the kids—in grown-up flutes, of course. Will raised his glass in a toast: “To new experiences,” he said, and we all clinked glasses.

For the next three hours, we ate incredible food, unlike—and this is no exaggeration—anything we’d