A Funny Story

On Tuesdays my children and I often go to our favorite restaurant for lunch.  We sit there and eat and I tell them a story.  They like it when I make up silly stories and we have some favorites.  They like the broccoli monster stories and Princess Turtle stories and a few others.  We have a fun time and sometimes they tell me stories they make up.  I love this part of my week and actually sometimes look forward to it more than the children I think.  We've been doing this for over a year, not every week of course, but almost.  We are regulars you could say.  The workers know us, the other patrons know us, and even the nice guy who cleans up our mess every time says hi now.  A few weeks ago we went for our Tuesday lunch.  As we waited for our food I told a "scary" story to my children.  These stories aren't really scary of course, but they have some element of the unknown or suspense in them.  At the table next to us sat a nice older couple discussing the afternoon.  The woman got up to leave and the man simply sat there.  "Why aren't you getting up?" the lady asked.  The man just looked at her "I'm waiting for the end of the story of course."  As though he couldn't understand why she wasn't.  So they sat there and listened to the rest of the story for about ten minutes.  My children then thanked them for listening and they thanked us for the story and away they went.  Last time when we went to lunch at our restaurant we sat down to start our story, just as I said "Once upon a time..." a man sat down at the next table, slightly out of breath.  "Have I missed the beginning?"  He asked.  I looked over to question what he was talking about and it was the man from before.  "I saw you in the parking lot and had to hurry so that I wouldn't miss the beginning of the story, please don't let me interrupt."  He said and waved his hand for me to continue.  I told the story of the day, a little self-conscious because of the extra audience and when I finished he thanked me and my children again for letting him listen.  Then his wife laughed and said "When our children were growing up they used to beg for stories and he would always read books.  He would get upset because he didn't feel that he could make up good stories.  He actually called his son and told him your first story.  And was trying to remember every word of this story to repeat it to his son."  I was totally flattered that he thought so highly of my stories.  My children thought it was neat that he still told stories to his grown son.  This started my children down the "When I grow up" train of thought.  As we were leaving the man asked if we would be there next week because he had missed us the week before.  Now, in addition to my children, there is someone else who wants me to go out to lunch on Tuesdays.