Last night as a special treat, I took Roxana out for ice cream before we went to the library for our tutoring session. (Her brother is at Boy Scout camp this week and I think she’s a little envious, so I thought it would be nice if she and I had a little adventure of our own.) Since the library is only a couple of blocks away from The Dairy Godmother, the place where our president took his kids for frozen custard last week, we went there.
Good custard (they pride themselves on making it Wisconsin-style — that’s the owner’s home state — and indeed, there’s a vintage tablecloth featuring a map of Wisconsin on the wall); Roxana had chocolate in a sugar cone and I had a dish of red velvet.
When I got home I looked up some articles about the whole thing. In this one, the owner complains that since the Obamas’ visit, her business has increased about 20%, and she’s had to put more people on each shift. There’s nothing at all about the Obamas on the store’s website.
And yet… I noted that one of the wooden chairs in the place now has a seat stenciled in red, white and blue lettering. What does it say?
“Obama sat here.”