“I don’t want this,” six-year-old Molly said, pushing her plate away. “I want macaroni and cheese.” Our waitress looked at me curiously, unsure what to do.
“That IS macaroni and cheese. That’s what you ordered. You were excited about it!” I hissed at her.
“The noodles look funny. I want regular noodles,” she pouted. Great. What a time for Molly’s child-logic (ie, the nonsensical kind). Her macaroni noodles looked different than usual; therefore, the whole meal was inedible.
“Well, what are you gonna do? That’s what you ordered, and you’re not getting anything else,” I said firmly.
“I’ll have what Daddy’s eating!” Molly chirped happily. Jeremy (my husband) stopped mid-bite and sighed. Then I sighed. Then three-year-old Andy stuck his fist in his water glass. Dinner at the restaurant was going smoothly.
I hadn’t felt like cooking, so I’d convinced Jeremy to take us out for dinner. I thought I was prepared; I had a duffel bag full of diapers, wet wipes, spare clothes, toys, books, and snacks. I would’ve brought Andy’s tricycle, but it didn’t fit in the bag. We’d timed the meal so we’d beat the dinner rush and be in and out quickly. Everything would’ve been fine, had it not been for our offspring! After hustling to a table on the patio, Andy saw the cars in the parking lot and popped in and out of his seat like a prairie dog. Molly, older and slightly more patient, was content with a coloring book for a few minutes, until she started to whine about being “bored” and “hungry”. I wanted to whine too, about my impatient kids and their short attention spans! We quickly flagged down the waitress and gave our order, then spent the next twenty minutes convincing our kids to stay in their seats. Imagine persuading an angry monkey to put his knife down and keep his diaper on, and you’ll know what we were dealing with.
Finally, the food came! Jeremy and I shoveled French fries and salad into our mouths, Molly sulked in front of her congealing pasta, and Andy (to everyone’s surprise) actually ate his chicken nuggets! And he was in his chair while he did it! Sure, he was standing on the chair, buuuut I’m gonna call that a win. Our plates were cleared, I tidied up the table, picked the goldfish crackers off the floor, and wiped the footprints off Andy’s seat. We paid the bill (leaving a generous tip) and were out the door in record time.
Later, at home, Molly had a bowl of cereal for dinner (how nutritious) and we talked about trying new foods, even if they look different than what she’s used to. She agreed that the next time we went to dinner (in twenty years) she’d eat what she ordered. Overall, the experience was a mild success. It could’ve been better, but it could’ve been a lot worse, and hey, at least I didn’t have to cook!
