Free Tacos!

What do you get when you mix a pregnant wife with an offer for free tacos? The answer to this question might seem straight forward, but in reality it is quite complicated. First of all, you are probably working off the assumption that all pregnant women are hungry and therefore are always ready to eat anything. Secondly, you probably believe that tacos, being something, would satisfy those huger pangs. And finally, you are undoubtedly under the impression that this exhausted pregnant mother of four is alert enough at dinner time to recognize a free version of a taco as consumable food.

Since today was Mommy's adjustment day I left work a few minutes early to rendezvous with her at the chiropractor's office. We traded keys and cars and I was supposed to take the Burbful ("Suburban-full-of" for those of you less family oriented) of kids right back home and start working on dinner while Mommy got her aching back straightened out. "So did you plan something for me fix for dinner?" I asked handing her my keys.

"No, I'm way too tired to even think about dinner. The 5:30 mornings are getting to me." Her eyes were indeed heavy and I wondered if she would make it all the way inside the building without falling asleep.

"They're giving out free tacos at Jack in the Box tonight," I casually mentioned.

"That doesn't even sound good," she moaned. "Just feed the kids some left overs and don't worry about waiting for me."

What I heard, however, was, "Do whatever you want because I'm not going to eat anyway." So, since there was no plan for dinner it was off to Jack in the Box for free tacos. Please understand that, as a native Southern Californian, I normally have a strict policy against ordering Mexican food at restaurants that don't start with the words "El" or "La." ("Los" and "Las" are also acceptable derivatives of those words.) Jack in the Box clearly starts with the word "Jack," not "El Jack." I give Jack credit for his good old fashioned American sandwiches, but the dude doesn't have a Mexican bone in his body.

With four kids in tow, we braved the crowded restaurant and placed our order. "I'll have five orders of your two free tacos," I said. The very astute young man behind the counter, not wanting to violate the terms of the free taco offer, carefully counted my four children plus myself to make sure all five bodies were present.

"You do have five people," he commented nodding toward the two-year-old in my arms. I then handed him nothing and he handed me a receipt. "May I have your name?" he asked. I told him my name, carefully saying each letter since Aaron is so often misspelled by the uneducated. And he, being clearly uneducated, spelled it wrong.

It took about twenty minutes, but my name was eventually called and ten neatly wrapped taco-like meals were waiting for me at the counter. I took my bag, rounded up the kids, and hit the road. On the way home, my wife called and told me that her appointment had gone fast and she would be joining us for dinner. Oh no, I thought to myself. She didn't want tacos. I put the pedal to the metal and raced home to whip out that left-over chicken I was supposed to be feeding the kids. Shortly after she walked in the door, I had the table set with ten paper-wrapped taco-esque treats, left-over chicken, and microwaved veggies.

You'll recall that earlier I had mentioned that Jack (of the box fame) didn't have a Mexican bone in his body. Well, I thought that might play to my advantage, because neither do my kids. I felt fairly confident that tacos made by a guy named Jack wouldn't have even a hint of spicy in them. Well, given my kids' lack of south-of the-border taste buds, it only took a hint of spicy to make them think that Jack was trying to burn their tongues off. At least we had the chicken.

As I looked at the ten tacos in front of me and the four kids and one wife who all wanted left-overs, I realized I was in a predicament. The task seemed daunting, but I was up for the challenge. Taking a bite of the first Jack in the Box taco, I couldn't help but notice that the meat-like substance inside the tortilla looked like shredded beef but had coloring that reminded me of taco sauce splashed on a paper towel. The texture of the meatish stuffing was smooth, almost like warm Jell-O. My mouth was confused. Where's the shredded beef texture? I wondered to myself. Then I thought about how remarkable it was that taco sauce could hide so many unsavory flavors. I continued chewing. My stomach felt fine so I finished taco-like substance number one and got to work on number two.

The second one went down fine. Taking a break, I loaded my plate with a warmed up pile of mixed veggies. Might as well get something of value into me before I fill up on spicy meat substitutes. Then I moved on to the third taco, then a fourth. Almost halfway there. I started the fifth, then paused and took a drink. A long drink. I was beginning to question my judgement at this point. Halfway through number six, I had to quit. Images of where my meal may have originated began flooding my head and I couldn't shake them. So much for being up for the challenge.

I'll give Jack credit for defeating me in the ten taco challenge, but he's going to have to take the loss on his latest promotional idea because it just bombed muy grande.