Dear Bob Evans Staff:

I think I owe you, Mr. Evans, and your staff an apology for last night. I am a huge fan of yours, and really enjoy my trips down on the farm. I hope that last night's actions in no way jeopardizes my ability to return to your country goodness in the future, though I realize we will probably both have to let some time pass before that happens. Please know that while I may IHOP until then, I will be thinking of you and wishing that I could be in your pancakes instead.

Please know that there was no malice behind our trip to your establishment last night. After Tabbi's big basketball win, I thought we could all use some dessert, and quite honestly, dessert restaurants are at a minimum around here. So, pie it was. I realized that you closed within 45 minutes of our arrival and you were mostly cleaned up by the time we got there, but I truly felt that we would be quick and easy. Pie is basically defined as quick and easy, right? We're not talking chocolate souffles or anything.

It went well, at first. We sat, we chatted. Table for 6 plus a highchair. Nothing difficult. Pies were ordered (cobbler for me) and we had some wholesome family fun waiting for our food to arrive. Who knew that the demons from hell were about to be unleashed? When the food was placed on our decorative paper place mats, I thought "life couldn't be better than smiley face sundaes and lemon pie." Then, Will leaned over and puked his entire lifetime's worth of food onto the table. Yep, that was fruit cocktail. We had it for lunch. Then he reared back and hit his sundae and lap with go number two. By the third lurch, I was ready and caught the majority in my hands, but then... where do you go from there if not into your virtually untouched cobbler bowl? Suffice it to say, it looked much more appetizing prior to Will's addition.

I took him into the bathroom at that point, and while it may look like round four happened there, that really was just the drippings from our clothing from rounds one through three. I tried to wipe it with a paper towel, but that was just an exercise in futility. That floor was freshly mopped right before we walked in, huh? Check out my post on Murphy's Laws sucking from earlier in the week. I feel your pain.

So, Bob and staff, I guess we left our mark. (Not my husband Mark... Will's puke as a mark). And, I think I better give a shout out to those other customers. I apologize if my son's stomach pyrotechnics somehow adversely affected your appetites. It didn't do a ton for ours either. Well, I guess that is it. Now, can we get our desserts to go? Preferably a fresh one?

Thanks!
Lynn