Adventures of a first-time father to be... part 2

I alluded to the importance of food to a pregnant woman in my first installment of the adventures of a first-time father-to-be, but if you didn't quite get it then, this ought to help really bring that into focus for you... We've all heard the stories about cravings... a wife waking up at 1 in the morning and absolutely has to have fried chicken, pickles, and cookie dough ice cream. Fortunately, the fetching Mrs. Wookie hasn't had that sort of a craving yet. Her cravings are relegated to mealtime. If it's time for dinner and she wants a bean and cheese burrito, we're going to go get Mexican food. The only down side to this is that the time between when she figures out what she's craving and when she turns into psycho pregnant chick due to lack of recent food intake is rather short... say 15 minutes max So on this particular occasion, I was asking what she felt like for dinner, and was getting a whole lot of "I dunno..." That's not helping me get food into her... Finally, inspiration strikes, and she says, "Steak and garlic mashed potatoes." No problem. We go to this cool place, the Roadhouse Grill. It's a corporatized barbeque place, where they've got barrels full of peanuts to snack on, and you can just throw the shells on the floors. Kinda neat, pretty good food, and it's decently priced. Plus I really dig this southwestern tri tip salad they've got.... yum. So we get there at about 6:30 or so, and forunately there's no wait for a table since we used up 10 minutes of the wife's 15 minutes of sanity between craving recognition and psycho pregnant food withdrawals getting to the restaurant. The hostess seats us, and 2 minutes later the waitress comes by to take a drink order. Strawberry lemonade for the fetching Mrs. Wookie and a Newcastle for myself (no reason I have to go without during these 9 months...), and we make a specific point to the waitress that if she values her life, she should bring rolls to the table as soon as possible since we've got only 2 minutes of sanity left before the food withdrawals kick in and all hell breaks loose. Time at this point seemed of no consequence because after the waitress left my beautiful wife slowly degenerated into a pile of mush. She started swaying, her eyes started to glaze over, and she growled at me, "Go get me a roll now." "Honey, the waitress is coming in just a sec." I try to distract her with some small talk. It didn't work. I offered her some of the aforementioned peanuts. She threatened to vomit on me. "I need rolls now. I don't care if you have to go back into the kitchen and get them yourself. Get. Me. Rolls. N.O.W." Her eyes start to tear up and she clenches her fists. Fortunately I see the waitress come around the corner with our drinks and rolls. "Here she comes right now, baby..." I sit back, hoping the waitress doesn't lose a finger in the mad dash to the rolls and butter. And just as the waitress puts the rolls down on the table a single tear rolls down my wife's cheek. She calmly takes the roll, butters it, eats it, and simply wipes the tear away. The waitress was a sweetheart to us all night and even though she was busy with some large parties, she always made sure we had fresh rolls and full drinks. Needless to say we left her a good tip and even a little note complimenting her on her exceptional service. The fetching Mrs. Wookie explained over dinner, her complete lack of control as she waited during those final minutes for those rolls. I was just waiting for her to explode...