Number one on her list was chain restaurants, specifically Friendly’s, where you kids can scream, wreck the place and get a balloon when they leave. This is also the restaurant where we spent an especially stressful lunch yesterday afternoon.
Minutes before reading this article, I was telling my husband how awful Mr. Man is in a restaurant. He screams, cries, throws food (food that he likes, but may be too hot or he deems not good enough for some unknown reason), and insists on pouring water all over himself. God forbid you try to help him hold the kids cup they give you so he doesn’t tip it and soak his shirt. Let the screaming commence.
And the balloons, well the thingy they have them all stuck into is tall enough that you can see the top ones from your table, so Mr. Man screamed about that as well. I’m sorry, I am not dealing with a balloon on a stick while we eat and I try to manage all of his other issues, including his limited menu options since he still can’t have dairy.
I think it is especially frustrating to eat with this little crazy person because Little Miss was always an angel at restaurants. There was a month or so long period when she was around 4 months where I spent restaurant outings in the vestibule between the doors trying to sooth her screams, but as soon as she was able to sit in a high chair, she was a great guest at the table.
And she used to eat everything! Now her diet consists mostly of grilled cheese, chicken nuggets and veggies, but when she was little you could order anything off the menu and she would be more than happy to eat it, after she sat and colored and made us all laugh, of course.
With Mr. Man, I am that parent. He screams at the top of his lungs when he is happy. He screams when he’s angry. He makes the area around our table look like a garbage dump.
So yeah, we aren’t going to take that ticking time bomb to a nice, cool, quiet, hip or expensive restaurant any time soon. My husband said this morning, “We just have to make it a year and then maybe he will be able to handle himself better.” I don’t know if I believe that, but in the meantime, you can find us at Friendly’s with all the other screaming children and enough grease and fat to warrant pulling out the maternity pants.