There was a stretch when the twins were still little enough to be buckled into those oversized car seats in the back of the soccer-mom van, feet kicking the seatbacks and voices bouncing off every window.
Lunch out was a reward in those days.
Sometimes it was because they’d done well in school.
Sometimes because they’d finished their chores without being asked twice.
Sometimes because, honestly, Laura and I just wanted an excuse to get out of the house and let somebody else make the food.
They already had their favorites.
McDonald’s.
Runza.
Subway.
And apparently one more that I didn’t realize had been quietly added to the rotation.
One afternoon it was close to lunchtime, and I was driving with Panda Express on my mind. I was already halfway to orange chicken in my head when the girls suddenly erupted from the back seat.
“The Ding Dong store!”
“The Ding Dong store!”
“We wanna go to the Ding Dong store!”
I kept my eyes on the road, trying not to rear-end the car in front of me while also wondering what in the world they were talking about.
The Ding Dong store?
I glanced left.
Then right.
Nothing made sense.
Then in the rearview mirror I caught the sign behind us.
Purple.
Red.
Gold.
Taco Bell
And just like that, the mystery cracked wide open.
Of course.
To two little girls strapped into the back of a van, a bell didn’t say Taco anything.
A bell said ding dong.
Dad had finally decoded the secret language.
I laughed so hard I nearly missed the turn.
From that day on, it was never Taco Bell again.
It was the Ding Dong store.
And honestly, I’m still not sure they were wrong.
If this resonated with you, you’re not alone.
