Last night's dinner was no exception. I put down my fork. The meal in front of me looked, smelled, and tasted amazing. I'd managed to finish one and a half ravioli and part of a chicken breast smothered in Parmesan sauce, tomatoes, and spinach. Delightful.
Me- I'm going to need a box.
Sister- Don't you already have your own box?
Me- Well, yeah. I don't normally stuff it with ravioli, though.
Mom- (this part is silent because she was laughing so hard that you could only hear a slight gasp of breath here and there)
Sister- Can you imagine if you did? Honey, would you like to eat my box? It's your favorite. Ravioli.
Me- (looking around to see how many God fearing, respectable, Olive Garden patrons we've offended) You can take it home for your husband and the boys.
Sister- I will give him permission to eat your box.
Me- Oh, God.
Waiter- Is everything okay ladies? Is anyone going to need a box?
Us- (hysterical laughter) Yes, please.
Waiter- (look of confusion) One or two boxes?
At this point, my sister is trying to speak while laughing uncontrollably which always sounds like chipmunks on speed. My mother is laughing so hard that she can't speak at all and wiping tears from her eyes. I am laughing nervously while giving apologetic smiles to the tables I can see with small children or elderly people. The wait staff is wishing we would just pay the bill and leave.
In our defense, it was Saturday night, we'd had a couple drinks, and were already punch drunk from shopping a major closeout sale at Dillards. Besides, we were far more entertaining than the couple who seemed to not notice that their two children (about 3 and 5) were playing the screaming game every 5 minutes. We needed those drinks, dammit!
In order to make it clear that I am not a complete spoil sport, this morning I sent my brother in law a text with the following:
"Did you eat my box last night? It's okay if you did. I don't mind."
"I just found out it was an option. Oh hell yes, I'm gonna make that my bitch."
These are the people I go home for. God love 'em.