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So, we had lunch in Broomfield, Colorado instead

This is Part II of our Sunday lunch adventure. Part I is here.

After leaving the dirty restaurant, I had the urge to go home and shower. Hungry tummies prevailed, so after explaining to the kids why we left (“We value your lives and love you very much.”) we headed north. My husband drove. I wasn’t sure he had a plan, but I was trusting him to lead us to a restaurant where we’d feel safe and fairly confident the food wouldn’t inspire the first missed school days of the year.

We ended up at an upscale chain deli famous for it’s long salad bar and baked potatoes the size of footballs. Everyone was happy. It was very busy, and I wondered where we’d be able to sit remotely together. I noticed nobody was outside on the patio, so I suggested we eat there. It was comfortable, in the mid-60s, and I usually jump at the chance to eat outside.

The kids were skeptical, complaining of the bright sun. I pointed out the collapsed umbrella, promising to ask an employee to open it for them. They were placated. My husband took everyone’s order and headed inside with Aidan to the counter. We had been waiting for their return for a few minutes when Joel noticed a bee.

He screamed. I assured him it wasn’t going to hurt anyone. Ignore it. No need to panic. The three youngest boys, who were sitting together at one table, decided to move despite my advice.

My husband returned with Aidan and the table marker which would tell the servers where to bring the food. I explained why the boys moved tables. There was a bee at the old table, and they thought it wouldn’t find them at the new table five feet away.

We waited for about five minutes. The door swung open and two employees bearing three trays brought our food. Everyone settled in to eat, until the bee came back. She brought friends. The boys began to eek and yike and boo but not quite hoo. My husband stood and tried to shoo the bees away. One landed on the ground, so he stepped on it. That made everyone feel better until it was apparent the death of one bee signaled to the rest of the bees that these people, with their Coke and pizzas and ridiculous baked potatoes were monsters.

They were going to get us.

Several zipped around Sam, who stood up on his chair, leapt over the arm, landed in the middle of the patio, and began to helicopter his arms wildly while screaming. Tommy joined him, careening around the patio like a headless chicken. Beatrix began to cry, no doubt remembering when the wasps stung her because she started wailing, “Bee bite! Bee bite!” Joel shouted that a bee was on his hand. My husband looked. There was a bee on his palm.

“Hold still!” we futilely shouted. Just then, a teenaged boy employee came outside and asked if we needed help. We were quite the spectacle, I’m sure. Our tables were right against the floor-to-ceiling windows. We asked him to help us get all the food inside.

It took several trips, since the panicked kids left their appetites along with the abandoned plates. They no longer cared about lunch. We found two tables inside and claimed them. It took a few minutes to get the boys calmed down enough to take interest in the barely-touched food and drinks.

I have to note that Aidan and Ryley were calm throughout the whole incident. The only issue Ryley had was that a bee “walked on my pizza” so he wasn’t sure he should eat it. I told him to go for it. Maybe I’ll regret it. The bee’s footsies may have walked on a table at Restaurant #1.

Happiness was soon restored. We talked about bee behavior and human behavior and how sometimes we misunderstand each other. A lady approached our table and asked if there were bees outside. We confirmed her suspicions. We watched a man and his three kids go outside. They came back inside after only a minute.

The bees won, even though they had a higher body count.

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