Frieda, my mom, is sharing another story with us today. Enjoy!
Six-year-old Andrea wrinkled her forehead, evidently thinking hard. “Ashley,” she asked her older sister, “what is the name of that restaurant Grandpa took us to where you can stand at a little window and they give you some more food free?”
“I know which one you mean, but I can’t remember either,” answered Ashley. “Grandpa ordered that yucky pie made out of eggs. And the lady comes around with a cart and gives you tea if you want it, and she even has lemon and iced tea spoons, and Mom talked Spanish to her.”
“Uh. . . . Oh, I know—Hairs!” exclaimed Andrea triumphantly.
Ashley chimed in, “Yeah, Hairs!”
“No, girls,” objected their mother. “It’s ‘Furrs’!”