passive aggressive.

We went to the Provo Kneaders with Ma and Pa in-laws. French toast heaven? Yes. It's true.

But as we stood in line waiting for our french toast goodness, we all noticed that there were no seats left in the restaurant. Not 1. Oh, okay, there was one next to a woman eating at a table alone. And two across from a couple with a newborn. One next to a large man who I saw pick his nose and eat it while sitting in his car, and then two next to a large group of BYU students.

I guess we could have sent Millie to sit next to the woman, and Clin and the baby could have befriended Mr. Nose, in-laws could have sat by the newborn couple and I could have hob-nobbed with the students (because I'm social like that.)

But we didn't do that. No. We felt it important to sit next to each other; share our time as a family and that led us to our predicament. Where would we sit?

That's when our accusitory glances began. I could see it in Clin's eyes - and I'm sure I was reflecting the same thoughts.

BYU students - you are done eating. You have three tables and at least 6 chairs, plus a large sofa. Leave, already.

And to the 4 senior missionaries sitting outside? You have been talking since we arrived. I don't think I've even seen you with food on your plates. That's how long you've been here. You'll leave when you see that we have two children (one who cannot walk), and a toddler who will run into the street if we don't provide her with even a lap to sit on. You'll take pity on us....right? Missionaries are supposed to serve and sacrifice. Come on already, sacrifice!

And woman sitting by yourself? Go eat in your car. You don't need a chair....right?

I know. Selfish. But the longer you walk around with huge plates of french toast, overflowing syrup, a handful of napkins and utensils, a baby in your arms, and a toddler tugging your other arm, the aggression builds up.

So we assumed that people would grow uncomfortable as we stood over them, glaring in desperation and accusation as our eyes said, "Your plates our empty. It is time to leave. Look at our hungry children. Take pity on us now."

It didn't work. Clin went outside and sat on some wet grass with the two girls. He was so busy wrestling them that he couldn't even take a bite. It was the In-laws that saved us; found a table just in time. And as we ate, we continued to glare at the missionaries, single woman, booger man, and students.