After stopping briefly at the South Carolina, North Carolina, and Virginia welcome centers, we stopped for a few hours in Richmond, VA. The first priority was dinner, and in order to describe my choice of restaurants, a bit of back story is in order:
Since I try not to be profane around the children, my “go to” inappropriate word to provide levity in times of turmoil is “bottom.” Examples go like this:
child: “DADDY! She’s ruining my train tracks!”
me: “My bottom likes to ruin train tracks.”
child: “Daddy, I want cake for dinner!”
me: “My bottom wants cake for dinner.”
These have, accordingly, become what the children reference as “bottom jokes.” These one-liners went over well for about a year or two, but more recently, any use of bottom jokes gets a chorus of “DADDY! NO MORE BOTTOM JOKES!” with gritted teeth and serious eyebrows.
So, naturally, when I stopped the car in Richmond, Virginia after 8.5 hours of driving and told them we were eating at a place called “Bottoms Up,” I was greeted with groans and disbelief. Until they walked inside and saw individual slices of pizza the size of cereal boxes.
head offered for scale
It was delicious–all $80 (+ tip) of our meal there. We boxed the leftovers and walked across the street to the canal system and sidewalks near the James River. My 5-year-old boy enjoyed the train tracks.
Then we retired to our Fairfield Inn at Fredericksburg at 9:45pm. Our first day of traveling was complete.