threebythirty: a 'sub'-par dinner, and dee-wish-ous dessert

I love Fridays. Well, let me clarify. I love Friday evenings. After a non-stop work week, I relish in the promise of two whole days where I can lounge around, relax, and do things at my leisure, rather than answer to alarm clocks, school bells, and the constraints of a clock (most of time, at least). Friday evenings typically mean a good amount of 'cuggle time' with the kids following either dinner out or ordering in.

Tonight, we ordered from Firehouse Subs for the first time. After searching the web for their menu, we discovered we could order from their site and pick it up at the quoted time. Score. A few clicks of the mouse later, and we were informed that we could pick up our turkey bacon ranch subs, Gavin's hot ham and cheese, and Brynn's meatball sub in 20 minutes at 6:06. I headed out to pick up a gallon of milk and drove over to the sub shop. As I pulled into the parking lot, I received a phone call from Firehouse to call and confirm that I'd placed my order. Not a promising sign...

About a minute later I walked in, told them who I was and they asked me for clarification on one of the sandwiches. Not a good sign. It didn't take long for me to realize they had yet to start our order. I sat my large (hungry) belly down at one of their tables and began to wait. And wait.

And wait.

And wait. For 20 minutes.

Technically, they told me it would take 20 minutes to get our order together, and I guess they were true to their word. But, the whole concept of 'order ahead and don't wait' was sort of lost in translation. The worst part? I couldn't even really walk out...they had us pay when we placed the order. Trapped. Yeah, I could have left...told them I wanted to cancel my order, made sure my card wasn't chared, and just go. But. I'm pregnant. My brain was fixated on the promise of turkey bacon ranch. I was literally feet from all the components of my sandwich, watching with slight annoyance as they (slowly) assembled the ingredients. I didn't really 'watch', as I was sitting and the counter was kind of high, even for me, but I got the idea. So whether financially or psychologically or both...I was trapped.

When I finally arrived home, we sat down to eat; all starving at this point. I opened the clamshell container that housed Brynn's meatball sandwich and watched as her face twisted into a disappointed and confused look. Meltdown in 5, 4, 3, 2,...'that's not a sandwich! I want a sandwich!'. Ummm...what? I didn't quite know how to explain to Brynn that what she was eating in fact is categorized as a sandwich. Meat, cheese, bread. There aren't too many things these ingredients could qualify as, especially considering the manner in which they were prepared. Of course, she didn't quite believe me, and proceeded to cry. Being a Friday night, I had zero energy to even attempt to discuss it further. Knowing it was Brynn I was dealing with further solidfied my choice to just ignore her. This was B. She would be over it soon enough, and if she wasn't...oh well. She wouldn't starve, and she could eat it tomorrow.

Sure enough...I was right to ignore my hearbroken daughter, because about 5 minutes later...

Was it the delicious meatball sub she found irresistible? Possibly. Both Randy and Gavin ate every last bite of their sandwiches, in record time to boot. However, she could have been like me...filled with overall disappointment. I ordered my sub, sans mustard. Shockingly enough, the geniuses behind the counter not only struggle with reading a clock, but apparently an order as well (I know...name calling is a bit mean. I used to be in the food service business for years as a teenager, so I know mistakes happen. But I'm just being a bitter prego lady--so go with it).

Brynn finally finished her sandwich, and I quickly discovered what I believe is the true cause of her overcoming her issues with her 'non-sandwich' sandwich so quickly...