dinner plans.

The kids are in love with a series of movies all created by the same guy.

Hayao Miyazaki.

(Yeah, I had to use my Goggle search tool to be certain of dude’s name.)

That same Google search claims he’s Japan’s greatest animator.

I don’t know.  I don’t even actually care.  I’m not even trying to write about him today.  Not really.

What I’m trying to say is that the kids love his movies and they wanted to watch a new-to-them one and have a little celebration.

You know, I love celebrations for no real purpose other than the love of celebrating so I said sure!

We had decided to fashion our dinner around what the characters in the films eat.

As I was driving to Publix to purchase some makeshift version of an ethnic dinner, I drove right past an authentic Asian grocery store.

I couldn’t pass up that opportunity so five of the kids and I headed into the store, having never set foot in any variety of ethnic store previously.

(What?  Does Mr. Salsa’s count as ethnic?  No.  Okay, then my previous statement remains accurate.)

Our conversations throughout the store were fantastic.

“Bergen, what’s lotus?”

“How should I know?  I can’t read Chinese.”

“Hey, Momma – I found the dead squid head.”

“Look.  Do we need fish skin?”

“Why does this store smell like plastic and outside?”

We didn’t buy any meat there.  I was raised on a farm and I’ve seen and consumed my fair share of super fresh animals but the thought of buying a chicken with its head still attached to its body did not appeal to me on this occasion.

We did, however, buy a plethora of noodles in various shapes.

They look so authentic, don’t they?

And of course we purchased fortune cookies and chopsticks.

We made a giant steaming bowl of the noodles.

They might have tasted like the real deal – I’m not sure.

I just know two things.  

One.  The noodles sort of tasted like the store smelled.

And two.  We prepared waaay too many of them.

I’m glad we tried the experience, however, if only for the fabulous one-liners from the beginning readers in our family.

Staring at the fortune cookies in their bag on the ride home, London kept asking, “When can we eat those merchant cookies?”

And when Bergen hopped back in the car after leaving the market he pointed at the sign that stated “Asian Market” and asked, “Why do they call it an assassin market?”

Yep, even dinner’s funny at this house.