As we enter the pseudo fast food restaurant, my son races towards ice cream freezer. I let him run to it and I grab a table with my wife and daughter. Once upon the freezer, he turns and looks back at no one in particular and says he wants ice cream now. When he sees me, he says "no bobie" for he knows I will not allow ice cream before dinner. His "no bobbie" went up an octave when I say, "Dinner first, then ice cream". A moment later my son is sitting at our table. Our nanny is feeding him spoonfuls of ice cream while I look over the menu. My wife isn't eating this evening and suggests oven spaghetti for our daughter. I get the hamburger and that is that. I had suggested the little family night as we haven't been spending a lot of time as a unit lately. I've been accused of being a workaholic, which I think is pretty much true. Combine this with my recent fondness for alcohol and other forms of self gratification and you don't have a lot of family time. Not to mention my wife's passion for gambling and shall we say "team building". Taking the nanny on this little family night out seems a bit out of place, maybe excessive, but at least my wife did not bring along the second nanny. The food takes a while to arrive, especially the oven spaghetti. My daughter wants some of the ice cream and my son screams because he doesn't want to share. Occasionally the nanny sneaks her a bit or two. I've been thinking the nanny has been looking a bit more slutty lately. And I can't say I mind all that much. After all I spend more time with her than my wife these days. An image from the night before: her leaning over the bed, a panty around an ankle, and nothing more. My wife starts to tell me about her day. Seems her commission will be impossible to achieve this quarter. The margins are just impossible. She goes on to tell me about some small scale, basically routine black market deal that goes on with her sales force. I tell her that someone who works for me got run over by a train today. He's dead. I am not kidding. She nods and then continues with a story about a customer who is mad at her and that she really can't blame him. I fondle a fry as she goes on. I'm listening, I suppose. Lot's of head nods, lots of "yeas". My girlfriend walks into the restaurant just as the oven spaghetti arrives. I haven't seen her since lunch when I left her on the bed to untie herself. I am not surprised to see her now. She's been playing this game for a while. She walks past my table, brushes her left breast against my left bicep, and makes her way behind me. She has my full attention. So to speak. My son finishes his pint of ice cream; my daughter takes a few bites of the oven spaghetti and is done. My wife twiddles the spaghetti on a spoon but doesn't eat. My son and daughter run off. The nanny glances at me and then is off to chase them. I take a few bites of the spaghetti. My wife goes to the counter to get a doggie bag giving my girlfriend a chance to sneak up behind me and slip her hand into my crack. Then she's gone. I'm definitely going to bring my lunch tomorrow. We pack up the leftovers. I tell my wife that this family time was good. That we should do more things as a family. She looks away and walks off.