Appleboo's

This morning I helped my friend, Amanda, do a little home decor shopping. Claudia and Mallory were good sports about schlepping around in a cart while she and I dug through hundreds of throw pillows, mirrors and wall art. Afterwards, we decided to hit the mother of all chain restaurants, Applebee's.
About two sips into my french onion soup, I heard a loud crack followed by an even louder scream. Claudia had slipped while sitting on her knees in the booth. She hit her mouth on the window ledge and bit all the way through her bottom lip. Blood was flowing. The waitress was of great help in getting us a towel, ice and the check. She shared with me that "her son busts his lip open all of the time so, she would be just fine." I knew Claudia was going to be fine, I just wanted to get out of there, head to the frame shop (and Mark) seconds away, to determine whether a visit to Dr. Leedy was needed.
As I was trying to get Claudia buckled in while holding ice on her fat, bloody lip, I heard Amanda talking to someone. There, behind the vehicle, stood the Applebee's shift manager holding a clip board and jotting down Amanda's take on the incident. I waited for Amanda to get in...and waited...and waited. Finally, I stuck my head out the window and semi-politely said, "Excuse me, is that something we can take home and get back to you?" He then started asking me a series of questions. I know it's protocol and this guy was just doing his job, but really? Never in a million years would it cross my mind to sue Applebees or hold them financially responsible for medical expenses incurred from my daughter's clumsy mishap...or my negligence for that matter.

Booster or butt..no room for debate.

She's fine, by the way. No doctor visit, no stitches. She's actually quite proud of her swollen, pouty lip.