Today we went to a fancy restaurant.
The chef is one of our favorites—someone we’ve watched on TV for years.
Anthony and I ordered the signature dishes. He was excited. It was a big deal.
Isabelle ordered a burger.
It looked good, but they’d added some extra ingredients she didn’t like.
She didn’t want to send it back. Said she just “didn’t feel like eating.”
I knew that wasn’t it.
She was embarrassed.
The meal wasn’t cheap, and I was frustrated—for a moment.
But I also knew: this is part of her.
Social stuff, attention, confrontation—it’s not easy for her.
So I let it go.
I didn’t make a big deal. I didn’t push.
Because sometimes what looks like being picky… is actually something else.
And besides—Anthony got to eat at the restaurant of his hero.
That was the win today.
Isabelle will have better meals.
This one just wasn’t hers.
