Mr. Dog and IHOP - keys to happiness

I love IHOP.

It's always had a special place in our lives.

I know; like you, I've heard the roach stories, but I never leave IHOP without a moment of profundity.

In 1982, it was the first place we ate after we got off the plane at Lambert Field after a three-day coming-home trip from overseas. I remember the chocolate chip pancakes and, even at 10, proud to be an American. I loved Eurasian food, still remember it fondly, but...pancakes. With chocolate chips. Milk directly from cows and not some processed stuff from powder because the military feared giving their families local fare...although the oils used in such weren't much better in the long run.

IHOP with my kids throughout the years has brought on some profound chit-chat. What I love most is that if we're all together, having a good time, people look at us with smiles on their faces. We love each other, and we love to have a good time without invading the space/hearing of others.

I took Sunny to IHOP once to celebrate a good report card. She ordered a salad. When brought, she asked, "What are these little round red things? I love them on the salads at school, but I don't know what they're called." Um, Mom has tomato prejudice, darling. If you like them, I'll buy them. I think she was 6.

Last night, my three kids, my two sisters, my mother, and I made an impromptu stop at IHOP. We ordered four regular meals and a dessert.

This is where the fun begins, and I wonder who else does this? I worked in the restaurant biz for 6 years combined, and my sister for 6 months in a country restaurant, and we're sure there's no one quite like us. Forget the little 60th anniversary soup-and-sandwich couples and their penchant for splitting. We take it to a whole new level.

Plates got passed around. "Can I have a bite of that?" "Oh, this is good. Have a bite." "Sis, can I have a french fry? Junior? Is that omelet good? Hey, thanks! This is good." "Want some bacon, Dude? Sunny? Dude has an extra pancake..." "Mom, hand me your plate. I have too many crepes, here."

IHOP is the place to do it, too. You don't have to ask for extra plates because the big ones are muy grande and the pancakes come on their own little plates.

"You have room on that plate now, Junior. Put your pancakes on it."

"I'll take one. Does someone want the other?"

This is our ritual. It can be observed with three or more of our clan. The bonus? Ketchup on noses, syrup on sleeves, "can we have another two forks, please?" and extra napkins requested as soon as we're seated. There is no "mine" at the table. Even Dude gets it. Everybody looks at what everyone else has and starts to barter, bite for a bite.

And we all know what the others enjoyed about the meal, because we got a little taste. We also know that we might try that the next time, too, but...it will just get passed around again.

It just seems that this family doesn't have a selfish trend. I guess if you can share food, you can split inheritances without a disagreement. I remember when my aunt cleaned out (or attempted to) my grandmother's home, all ten grandkids, spouses, and children met together, which is about as frequent as planetary alignment. I'd never heard my aunt yell. And she didn't yell about our behavior...

She yelled because we were too busy yapping to get started.

We frustrated her for two hours. "I've always like this, but I remember you have this...does it go better with that or with..." "Who wants the yellow quilt? I remember you being wrapped in it 20 years ago. Did you have good memories of that?"

I took the angel food pan, the angel food platter, but my cousin got the Coke bottle Grandma used to turn the pan upside down on.

"Would you people just make up your mind? Send an e-mail, Kiran. She'll 'e' you back, I promise!" my aunt hollered. She held up a green pitcher with all its massing glassware. "Does someone want this? It's going to auction if it's not claimed in 10...9...8..."

She's under 5' and isn't very loud, docile in every sense of the word.

When it comes time for my grandfather's belonging and finances to be divided, I expect a little friction from my aunt. My mother, who will represent my deceased father, has been his primary caretaker and my aunt hasn't been home much at all since my grandmother passed on. After her funeral, she went around with Post-It notes and claimed things. Um, my grandfather still lived there.

It will be interesting to see, but I think if you can share food at IHOP, you've got a pretty good grasp on family and life in general. I've never eaten at IHOP with that particular aunt, come to think of it.

So, we have two definite keys to my happiness: Mr. Dog and IHOP.