23 Mar Let’s go to a restaurant with a toddler! Weeeee!

Restaurant outings with small children are both wonderful and anxiety-ladened stress adventures. Wonderful because hey, no cooking on my part and stressful because of every other reason.  These reasons can be broken down into three distinct categories:

1. The Pre-Food/Ordering Stage
2. The Eating/Feeding Stage
3. The Damnit Just Take the Child Outside and I’ll Meet You in the Car Once I Pay the Bill Stage

Here are some thoughts/concerns for each stage.

Stage 1:  The Pre-Food/Ordering Stage

What the heck can I order for myself and child that is both nutritious, and will not make him look like a living Jackson Pollock painting, or like we had front row seats to that wacky watermelon smashing Gallagher comedian once finished?  Hmm, he only has 8 teeth, can he chew the order I just placed?  Will I get side eye from the Judgey Judy patrons next door if I pick up my child’s plaything off the floor for the 90th time and hand it back to him, …and don’t bother sanitizing it?  1-10, how annoyed are the neighbors in the booth next to us from hearing Pi say “uh oh!” after dropping said plaything?  And how ‘nontoxic’ are these ‘nontoxic’ crayons anyway?  A little wax in the belly is ok right?  What about a lotta wax?  We’re running out of time for our sons’ happiness.  He’s getting bored, when is the food coming?  Pi, why don’t you understand what an inside voice is?  Shhhhh!  I don’t care if you’re only a year old, zip it!  Oh thank goodness, he smiled and waved at the table next door.  I’m so glad he’s a cute baby. Oh good grief he just Pterodactyl screeched at the table next door.  Nobody cares that he’s a cute baby anymore.  How many times can I apologize to strangers before it becomes useless and just as annoying as the thing my son is repetitively doing?

Stage 2:  The Eating/Feeding Stage

Good the food is here.  Crap we need a bigger table to keep a 3 foot radius of clearspace around Pi, void of breakable glasses, knives or wet food.  Yay he’s eating!  Darnit he’s not eating.  Where’s the waiter, we need more napkins.  I should’ve ordered more options, guess it’s puffs for dinner then.  Get your hands off my knife, don’t eat the paper napkin, no you can’t have my spiked lemonade.  Why did I order the spiked lemonade?  Maybe a little sip wont hurt…No!  No just cry.  Can you cry softer please?  Ah, that’s why I ordered the spiked lemonade.  I’m not enjoying my restaurant outing.  Should I apologize for the crying?  Here’s a toy.  Don’t throw the toy.  I’m not picking it up off the floor.  Fine, here.  Suffering suckatash look at this floor!  Where are those extra napkins?  Hopefully a big tip will ease the pain of sweeping up all these puffs and bitesized rejected veggie burger pieces.  Shhhhh!

Stage 3:  The Damnit Just Take the Child Outside and I’ll Meet You in the Car Once I Pay the Bill Stage.

See you in the car.  Oh can you give me your credit card, I’m not working.