We started driving toward Branson on a Friday, after the kids got out of school (so right about 1:30 pm). We had booked a motel in Sidney, Nebraska, which lies approximately 550 miles from West Valley City, making it an eight and a little bit hour drive. Then we could rest up in our cheap (and only available) motel and head out first thing in the morning for round II of the cramped, car fun.
We checked in after 9:00 pm and quickly got everyone showered, settled, and to bed (as a side note, we always pack an overnight bag with one change of clothes for everyone and necessary toiletries so that we don't have to haul all of the luggage into our hotel for a one night stay -- it works great!).
Our alarm woke us up early the next morning (the sooner you set out, the sooner you get there) and we wandered drearily to the motel lobby to rustle up some grub. The continental breakfast here was minimal, but did offer waffle batter and a waffle maker.
That was absolutely the coveted breakfast item for our crew.
|Imagine this admittedly adorable rabble bearing down on your |
You might not exactly be so thrilled to see them coming.
And so, I took my rightful place as Waffle Queen and started cooking waffles for our kidlets.
There were two other people in the lobby eating (I did make sure they were already waffled or not interested in being waffled knowing that we would be dominating the thing for quite some time once we got started).
One was a sweet trucker (he looked rough around the edges, but what a tender guy). He told me about his family and his seven children (not too often we meet people outside of Utah with more kids than we have). He was very patient with the antics of our six, small ones who were rowdy and grumpy from a day in the car and an early morning.
The other person was a lovely Asian woman who was very quiet, but seemed nice. She shyly smiled at us between glances at her newspaper. I was grateful she wasn't glaring at my little ones who were behaving pretty well, but are not exactly quiet and calm most of the time.
Anyway, our trucker friend left and I kept cooking and dressing waffles.
Finally, as I finished the last plate of toasted batter for the last hungry mouth I relinquished my spot to make the rounds and be sure all my littles had what they needed for breakfast.
This is when our Asian neighbor sprang into action. She quietly rose and came to my side, then looked very concerned and said, "I noticed you have been cooking for all of your kids, but you haven't eaten anything yet. Can I make a waffle for you so that you can have something to eat too?"
I just about cried. What a kind and thoughtful gesture.
Had I not already poured a waffle which was cooking while I checked on the kids I would have gratefully accepted her compassionate offer.
That she was not only patient with my rather rambunctious mess of monsters, but also took notice of the needs of their mother was one of the most generous and Christ-like things I have ever experience in a road side motel.
Thank you, sweet Asian woman, whoever you are. I hope to be a little more like you one day.