Chapter 1 - THE FRY PLATE AND THE RED BOOTH
The restaurant was nearly empty, and the warm smell of fryer oil clung to our clothes as we slid into a red vinyl booth. My four-year-old son kept both hands in his lap while the server placed a basket of fries between us. He looked at the basket, then up at me with wide, innocent eyes and asked, “Are these for real kids?” That heartbreaking question was the direct result of what happened an hour earlier at our family backyard barbecue, where my mother had pulled a plate of fries away from him with a sneering declaration that “those are only for my real grandchild,” prompting cruel laughter from the rest of our relatives. I pushed the basket forward, told him they were entirely for him, and watched as his first instinct—even after such public humiliation—was to break a fry in half and place the larger piece on my napkin to share.
