Friday night, I met some friends for dinner up in Independence. I don't generally think of Independence as being far away, nor really entirely separate from the region I'd consider 'home world.' But I loaded the kids in the car and we headed off to dinner.
We were about halfway into the 15 minute trip to Red Robin, and Sam said, "I hate going to Red Robin. It's in the middle of nowhere!"
"WHAT? What do you mean "the middle of nowhere"? It's right by Costco!" was my response.
"I know, mom, but there aren't any houses by it. So that's the middle of nowhere."
We debated this for some time, but he was totally convinced that the corner of 40 Hwy and 291 was the middle of nowhere.
"Look at all those lights! How could this possibly be the middle of nowhere?!!"
I finally told him that if he thought this was the middle of nowhere, he needed to think back to when we went to Great-Grandma Sullivan's house and had to drive 45 minutes just to get to a movie theater. That's the middle of nowhere.
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