Sweet Melissa's is one of those places that you would know, even if you were dropped into it by the aliens who abducted you, blindfolded you and forced you to travel to unknown regions, is local. The decor, the tables and chairs and even the floor tells you right away, the owners, who may live as close by as upstairs, did all this themselves. The waitresses are always the same people and all of them seem to be one of the owners.
When we sat down with grumpy Kate that first time, the waitress approached our table and without intro said to us "Mom and dad need coffee. And what's the haps with you, beautiful? Would some chocolate milk cheer you up?" It did. She constructed a special plate of yummy goodness just for Kate, too. Sarah was still on mush and was just happy to be able to look at all the lights. The food is fantastic. The coffee is great. And everyone there acts like that waitress.
At the OB and at the hospital everyone referred to Jeremiah and me as "Mom and Dad" and we knew it was because we were just accessories to the people who really mattered to them, our offspring. Now we get that at daycare and at Sweet Melissa's. Not everyone there has kids with them, but everyone there is fine with the place just crawling with ankle-biters. We know of a lot of kid-friendly places in town, but last weekend when we went again, and that same waitress remembered my kids' names, we agreed that Sweet Melissa's is the most kid-loving restaurant we've ever entered. Did I mention the fantastic food? From there, it's a few steps to the equally beloved plaza containing the popular fountain and gazebo. The square in Decatur is kid heaven.
Now then. I'm working on a project at work that requires a blog. We opted to use Blogger for said blog and I have to administrate it. Turns out I can't get it to say "posted by _____" differently for different blogs. So, I had to go with something a little more professional-seeming than Kicking N. Screaming (which I assigned myself on a whim without prior consideration anyway). So at least for the time-being, I'm just LMP. Is it "lump"? Maybe "lamp"? Could be "limp"...
4 comments:
Loves More Pudding.
She LMP, she's LMP, she's LMP, she's in MY head ...
Hmm, you never took US there!
Sounds great!
Do they play Allman Brothers when you walk in the door. I could hear meanderings in the Aeolian mode for hours. Its like the blues with one extra note!
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