The church next to my college has once a month dinners in the church basement sponsored by several of the various religious groups on campus. Faculty are welcome to come although the majority of the attendees are students. It's free and usually kid friendly food, usually pasta, so we typically go.
The last one we attended before Drew died was mexican night instead of pasta. Meg and Drew wouldn't eat the tacos themselves, but enjoyed the beans and shredded cheese greatly eating them each separately. One of the substitute preschool teachers was there and commented on how Meg and Drew were two of her favorite students, even though she isn't supposed to have favorites.
We stayed late, since my husband doesn't arrive back from his commute until near the end of the dinner anyway. Meg and Drew didn't want to leave. They had spent their after dinner time jumping while holding our hands off the stage at the front of fellowship hall. Eventually we gave them the five, two and one minute warnings and it was time to leave.
They didn't want to put on their coats. There is a phase of winter where kids are tired of coats and being zipped into them and Meg and Drew were in it. Eventually my husband and I asked if they wanted to trade coats. They did. So we bundled Drew and Meg up in our coats which were dragging on the floor and looking ridiculously cute. We stuck the hoods of their coats on our heads. When we got to the door we managed to convince them that we were going to get cold wearing their coats since they were way too small for us.
The pastors remembered this exchange so well that it was one the stories told at the funeral.