It can't have been for as long as I remember--we didn't live in that house for much more than a year before my little brother was born. But, when I think back, it feels like it was as longstanding as Christmas.
My step-dad worked evenings, so, as a special Friday night date, my mom and I would go get take-out Chinese. It was "Springfield style" cashew chicken, nothing anyone from China would actually recognize as a traditional dish. And then we'd eat in the living room with the TV on, which was a really big deal at the time.
I hadn't thought of it forever until Saturday afternoon. Sweet Husband works some Saturdays, so the Kid and I are often similarly left to our own devices.
We typically run errands in the morning, sometimes sandwiched in with something fun. (This weekend was a local "touch-a-truck" fundraiser. While this mama would have enjoyed it more with proper rain gear, the Kid still had a blast.)
And then we go home and eat mac & cheese from a box.
It's stupid easy--which, I think is why the tradition got started--but we've both started to look forward to it. I finish my bowl too fast; the Kid, too slow. And we chat about what we did that morning and what we're going to do after nap time and when Dada gets home.
It's our own special little date, and I love it.