We stopped at the McDonald’s in Fargo, North Dakota. It doesn’t have wireless internet access, FYI. I stayed in the car with the baby while the professor took the older boys in to get their second round of fast food for the day. And another ‘Avatar’ toy. I’d fallen asleep to the blinking lights of the blue Avatar man-toy, in the Hyatt Place in Eden Prairie Minnesota the night before. Thanks McDonald’s. I watched my boys sit in a booth waiting for their dad to bring them their fake food.
To an outsider, they might look semi-homeless. The Hen with his perpetually (inexplicably) dirty mouth. And shaggily long hair. The Gort with his own overgrown hair nearing mullet territory. Their dad approaches, dropping off mini white paper cups filled with ketchup. Their faces light up. You wouldn’t know they had the same meal six hours ago. Apparently cardboard cheeseburgers and fried potato sticks are something special. (Though the Hen doesn’t eat any of it save a few french fries.) Especially when served with a bottle of chocolate milk. And an Avatar toy. This one a dinosaur-rhinoceros like creature.
I decide to join them at their booth. I stumble out of the car with the baby loosely swaddled in my purple woolen sweater-coat. It is -2 Fahrenheit, or thereabouts. But who wants to bundle up for the five paces between the minivan and the McDonald’s door. I deposit the wrapped baby in the professor’s lap and escort the Gort to the restroom. There, I decide to combat the extended periods of sitting on my behind, eating candy bar after candy bar with a few halfhearted 80’s aerobics moves. Inspired by the B-52’s being piped over the sound system. With some jewel-toned leotards and tights and a blown-out hairstyle, I could be the next Denise Austin. Minus the biceps and the super white smile.