Last night, the brainwashing began. Let me explain. Grandma & Grandpa Coburn are part of this seemingly growing cult of retired people who eat at the Cracker Barrel as their sole source of nutrition on this planet. They know what soups they have on what days, how many sugar packets should be at each table, how many tables a good waitress can manage at once, Friday’s are fish night, what toppings come on the salad, how to order so they save the maximum amount on their bill, what interstate routes to travel to hit the maximum number of Cracker Barrels, and how to get the manager to sell them products out of the kitchen’s own freezer. The Coburns also informed of another set of Cracker Barrel cultists on the Fuller-side (I am ashamed to say), who meet regularly at the Fort Wayne, Indiana, Cracker Barrel. Its rumored that these cultists can even make the kitchen prepare a soup of the day that is NOT the soup of the day. But back to the Coburns – I think they won the prize when their favorite Cracker Barrel waitress called them on their cell phone this morning asking them if they were coming in.
So we took Sydney to the Cracker Barrel for dinner last night. She was quiet & slept the whole time except of the mess she made in her diaper in the parking lot. I wonder if she was trying to comment on the experience. Dad is not a Cracker Barrel fan — anyone who doesn’t serve Eggs Benedict isn’t in the breakfast game!