Diner Date

by Kristina Chew

Published April 04, 2009 @ 12:35AM PT

This isn't an advocacy post, or a post about accommodations or activism, or that much-under-discussion word, "awareness." I suppose it's possible to read some of these into the post. Or not.

So: This is a post about Charlie and me doing the diner thing.

I'd rather that I had written "Jim, Charlie and me," but that would be inaccurate. Jim is at Notre Dame University for a conference so it's been me and the boy. Jim is coming back today and we'll again be our tight team of three. Jim and Charlie certainly made out good while I was in Greece (with grandparental support) and Charlie and I have certainly spent, oh, a whole lotta time together. But it all goes more smoothly with the three of us.

Take weekday mornings, for one thing. Charlie's always had a hard time waking up in the morning and getting out of his bed and the fact that he seems to be in (yet another) growth spurt means that he's extra extra tired, and no amount of sleep seems "too much." As we currently live in a second-floor apartment with no views of the parking lot where Charlie catches the bus, it works best to have one parent standing in the lot on the lookout for the bus while the other parent helps Charlie get ready and out the door. When there's only one parent, it's a bit more intense and interesting, and harried.

As it turned out, Charlie woke up around 6.30 on Friday morning and (though it was getting kind of last minute) got out of bed on his own and clomped down the stairs to meet the bus. (It was raining, but he didn't mind----he usually doesn't.) When the bus returned a couple of hours later in the afternoon, Charlie got off on his own; clomped back up the stairs and had a snack and we did a little cello and then (the rain having cleared up) a good walk, Charlie keeping just a bit ahead of me as we passed little groups of kids and their parents, enjoying the sunshine after all the rain.

We usually go into New York on Friday night and meet Jim at his office and have dinner. But it hardly made sense to go into the city with no goal of visiting "Dad's office" and seeing Dad so---after checking my plan out with Charlie----we drove into Jersey City around 6pm and to the Brownstone Diner. We sat opposite each other in a booth, me with coffee and Charlie with Sprite, and waited for our orders which, as you can see from the photo, were heavy on the French fries----most eaten (consumer/wolfed down/fast dispatched of) by Charlie, with requisite amounts of ketchup for anyone wearing (as he was in fact) this shirt. The long-haired waiter remembered that Charlie gets his hamburger medium and offered to refill my coffee before I asked.

After our plates were almost bare (he left an onion ring and I wrapped up my English muffin), Charlie asked for his black fleece and would have headed out the door, but I called him back as I stood in line to pay the bill. He betook himself to the display case to check out the cakes, chocolate and white with white frosting whorls and a maraschino cherry, whole and in slices.

Charlie didn't ask for a piece. Indeed, he seemed in a semi-hurry to get back to his familiar post in the middle of the back seat of the black car, from which he viewed a number of city sights as we drove up Montgomery, down Kennedy Boulevard and West Side Avenue to Sip, and up into the Skyway, up above the Meadowlands and over diamond patches of lights and more, more lights.