First, down a large glass of wine, then prepare to become the headless chicken that plucks out its own feathers during one of the longest hours of its life. Then prepare for the heartburn, indigestion and trapped wind that comes afterwards from eating in every way that you shouldn’t – too fast and while jumping up and down off your seat.
My babe used to be a dream to take to restaurants and sometimes she still is. But there are times when just 10 minutes can seem like 10 hours. Where you tactically seek out a few seconds of peace (minutes are out of the question) – then all hell breaks loose as boredom sets in again.
After looping the restaurant about five times, its time to find another distraction that doesn’t involve destroying the innocent foliage or soft furnishings. Babes favorite is re-organising the furniture, I’m sure she’s going to grow up to be an interior designer. Perhaps the flow of ‘chi’ wasn’t right in the room? Or maybe it was simply too boring?
Credit due, the waitresses are usually brilliantly helpful, it’s some of the glares from other diners that puts you on edge though. “How dare you bring a young child into a restaurant, this is a civilized place” I can hear them muttering. Erm, excuse me…I’m tempted to say…”We have to eat too? Are parents just to survive on air and MacDonald’s alone?”
When the food has arrived, the target is then to yomp down everything as quick as possible so that you’re free to attend to the treasured toddler. Even when I’m out eating without babe, I find it a real challenge to eat slowly. It takes real mental effort to eat at a slow more sociable pace.
I do wonder at times, is eating out with a toddler really worth it?