The waiter at Mongolian BBQ asks how old is my son, which throws me off a little bit because we’ve eaten there many times (we’d eat there every night if the boy had his way) and no one ever asked that before.
Me: “Why? Did he order a drink?”
As it happens, when a kid turns 12 (my kid is 9), it makes the price go up.
Which reminds me: We were having a family dinner at Claim Jumper one evening and the waitress asked how much my son weighs.
My dad: “Why? Are you going to cook him?”
It turns out that at Claim Jumper, they charge kids, not by age, but by weight . . .