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" For the record, he started it. My brother, Scott, started the fight that ended with him landing smack in the middle of my parents&amp;#039; coffee table, which then collapsed. He was fine, and I glued the table back together before our parents got home. Sorry, Mom and Dad. And sorry, Scott. But now that we&amp;#039;re all grown up, our Extreme Quarterly Lunches make up for all of our childhood battles. It just took a few hot dogs and some shrimp cocktail to make it all good again.  Every few months, Scott and I meet for lunch, but we don&amp;#039;t just meet anywhere. One quarter, we go to a fine restaurant, complete with cloth napkins, wine lists and menus in foreign languages. The next quarter, we dine at a hot dog shack, complete with paper plates, jumbo pickles and free calendars with pictures of burgers on them. It&amp;#039;s extreme. It&amp;#039;s quarterly. It&amp;#039;s lunch. And we love it.  Last quarter, we met at a New Jersey establishment called Hank&amp;#039;s Franks. We liked that its name rhymed. We liked that there are no chairs there, just a long table by the window overlooking the highway. And we liked that you could order eight hot dogs and get one free.  Last week, we met at a Le Big Expensif restaurant, or something like that, on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. We liked that the maitre d&amp;#039; spoke to us in French. We liked that the waiter poured our champagne for us. We liked that you could order both chocolate mousse and tarte framboise for dessert.  Most of all, though, we liked that we could finally get to know each other without one of us winding up hurled onto the furniture like something out of &amp;quot;Friday Night Smackdown.&amp;quot; We are, after all, grown-ups now. We bruise more easily.  My sons, however, haven&amp;#039;t quite reached that point of maturity. At church on Sunday, I told them to shake hands for the sign of peace, but they would have none of it. One shunned the other, who shot me a look of disgust before turning away. I guess I should be happy they didn&amp;#039;t wrestle in the pews, but I worried that they won&amp;#039;t end up friends.  But then I remembered Extreme Quarterly Lunch and its jumbo franks and Tattinger by the half-bottle, and I sighed in relief. If Scott and I can find a happy ending to our childhood battles in some French fries and some French food, my boys can, too\u2014no matter who starts it. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.goodhousekeeping.com/life/parenting/a2321/good-grief-020708/>