Lotus, Pizza Girl

Executive decision this evening called for pizza and family-minus-one movie night (Ken's at work). Since energy levels were at an all time low today, as many as 3 out of 5 of us were still in pajamas at 4:50 pm. Clearly, take-out was in order.
On the way to Little Caesar's, I told Lotus she could go in and order the pizza, pay for the pizza, and get the pizza by herself. She was extremely excited by this idea, though Joaquin was uncertain.
"Mamaaaaaaaa?"
"Yes, Joaquin?"
"I think you should go in with Gagie to get the pizza."
"Really? Well, let's ask Gagie what she wants. Lotus, are you comfortable with going in by yourself?"
"Yeah!"
"Would you like me to come with you, but let you do all the talking?"
"No!"
"You're comfortable with the whole thing?"
"Sure am!"
"Well, Joaquin, there you have it. Lotus is fine going along, though it is very considerate of you to be looking out for her."
"Yeah. Mamaaaaaa?"
"Yes, Joaquin?"
"Can I go in to?"
"No, baby. You have to be seven to go in."
"Oh."

So Lotus and I role play her way through this rite of passage. We pull up to the store, where we find a parking space right in front of Little Caesar's, so I'll be able to watch her the whole time.
She goes in. And here's where the fun starts, folks.
The first thing she does is realize that her pants are not snapped up. So she lifts her shirt halfway up to try and get at the snap, which she is unable to work. The two $5 bills I've given her are getting her her way, so she attempts to hold them under her chin while trying to get the snap shut. It doesn't work. Finally, she gives up, puts her shirt back down, and sort of hangs out by the back of the store. I am trying my best to stay in the car until she indicates she needs my help. The boys are in the back seat, commenting on how long it takes Lotus to get pizza.

Finally, Lotus turns around to look at me, making confused hand gestures. I wave her to the car. She runs out, and I help her snap up her pants.
"Ok, pointer number one. Don't go out in public with your pants unsnapped. It sends weird signals." Lotus nods.
"Mommy, I don't know what to do. Where do I go? What do I do? Where's my pizza?"
"Baby, you have to go up to the counter. They're not going to come to you- you have to go up to them."
"Oh!" She says, suddenly understanding. She runs back in, and goes up to the counter. The teenager working the cash registers walks over to Lotus, and through my daughter's very large arm gestures, I can tell the order is being placed. But what's this? Instead of pulling the food, the worker is getting out the yellow order pad! They're running behind on the pizzas! Lotus will have to place an actual order.

The increasingly frantic nature of Lotus' arm gestures shows that she's entirely unsure of what to do next. This particular scenario was not practiced in the van on the way over. I see Lotus half turn toward me, point, nod, and put the $10 on the counter. She then runs out the door.

"Baby, you can't leave the money sitting there. Go back and wait for your change."
"My what? The what? The pizza's not ready."
"I know that, baby. But you need to go in and get your change."
She turns around, walks up to the bemused teenager, who gives Lotus her change. Lotus then runs back to the car, breathless.
"It's not ready. They have to cook it. It'll just be a few minutes."
"Ok. You did great, baby. The only thing you could improve for next time is to make sure you don't walk off until you get your change."
"Right."
"Why did you point at me when you were placing your order?"
"Oh. The girl wanted to know what my name was. I tried to give her your name, but I couldn't spell it. Plus, I couldn't spell our last name. So I just gave her my first name, but she didn't know how to spell it, so I had to do it for her." Lotus is full of twitchy energy, and she sits on the arm rest of the passenger seat in a manner that suggests she's going to jump out of her own skin.
At this point, I have to move the van, since the person next to me is having car troubles, and the army of helpers she's brought in are having troubles getting between my car and hers. We circle the parking lot to find a new space, this one not in a sight line of the Little Caesar's.
The moment the car is parked, Lotus springs up, insisting that she has to go back into the store so she can be there the instant the pizza is pulled from the oven. Off she goes.

The boys and I wait. And wait. And wait for a long enough time that I decide it won't be a display of lack of confidence in Lotus' pizza-getting abilities if I go check on her. I see her sitting on a chair, waiting politely. I open the door, and she turns to look at me, a big smile crossing her face.
"Is everything ok?" I ask. She nods.
"Yup. Just waiting. I knew you were going to come check on me." She smiles.
"Do you want me to stay with you, or are you ok finishing up by yourself?"
"I'm ok." So I go to the van, and have to explain to the boys that yes, pizza will arrive eventually. Jude is unconvinced and begins to wail.

At this point, I see the door to the store open, and out comes Lotus, carrying two boxes of pizza and wearing a big I'm-the-cat's-pajamas grin. She hands me the pizzas, gets in the car, and declares, "That was so awesome! You never have to go get the pizza ever again, Mommy. I will do it for you every time!"

Her glowing report of the whole thing sets her brothers to spending the remainder of the car ride home calculating how many years they have until they get to experience the awesomeness of Little Caesar's on their own.