There's a smalltown drive-in located that we pass when traveling from our house to my mother-in-law's.  Ever since we moved here six years ago, I've always wanted to stop there.  But, every time we drove by, it seemed as though we had just finished eating or were on our way to do the same.  A few days before Labor Day weekend, I drove the kids to my mother-in-law's house for an overnight.  This time, we planned our rendezvous for right after lunch and I drove us straight to the drive-in.

I tried to explain the idea to the kids while we were on the way.  Our conversation went something like this:
Me: We can order our food from the CAR and they'll BRING it to us!
Martin: Like Burger King?
Me: No, right there at the car!
Sophie: Like McDonald's?
Me: No.  Or! We could order the food at a COUNTER and then eat it OUTSIDE!
Martin: Like takeout, then eating it at the park?
Me: No, it's the DRIVE-IN.

With some disappointment, the kids ordered their food and expressed the general lameness of my plan.  We watched cars come and go.  We played tic-tac-toe.  I let the kids dig in the gravel and managed to restrain myself from telling them not to play in the dirt with the same hands that would soon be handling food.


I let the kids take a few pictures to pass the time.  Sophie hung onto me and said that she was FROZEN, choosing instead to snuggle into me rather than put on a jacket.


And then, the food came. 

The cool red tray, our own ketchup bottle and stash of napkins, food in baskets and crinkle-cut fries.  Food delivered to other cars and attached to windows.  The mood lifted, this place was cool, and I was awesome.