Believe it or not the terrible are usually pretty good when we are out in public. (When it’s just me and them). When the four of us leave the house it seems that cranky and spanky turn into feral cats. I blame their father for this. That’s another post for another time. Anyway, I’m not sure if it’s because they feel bad that it’s two against one or I’ve actually done a decent job of parenting. But they listen, follow directions, and generally don’t complain too much. I really enjoy our adventures…usually.
Last night I took them to a consignment sale. (A sale where parents sell their kid’s shit outgrown stuff to parents that need their
shit stuff). Side note: I love these sales because the terrible tend to destroy clothing, toys, and other necessities, so why bother buying new. Ok anyway, I told them they could each pick out a toy while I shopped for deals on summer clothes. (Which I got. Two dollars a shirt and three dollar swim trucks!). They were well behaved.
Because it was dinner time and I was enjoying their company I decided to take them to a restaurant as a treat. I have taken them out to eat many times and they are pretty good. I can’t expect miracles, after all they are two and a half.
We sat down, I ordered their food, (hot dogs and applesauce), and started looking at the menu for myself. They took this opportunity to crawl under the table. Once firmly planted back in the seats, I started looking at the menu again. They crawled under the table, of the people across from us. Thank god for old women. They didn’t care, and just wanted to know if they were twins. So now I’m annoyed. They poor waitress had been over to take my order three times. I just pointed to something and said I’ll just take that.
Their hotdogs came out and they were happy because it also came with French fries. Yay! For fried food. And applesauce. Oh the applesauce. Fucking applesauce. At some point the sauce got flung at me and landed in my hair. So at this point I’m literally praying that my food comes quickly. I need to end this before it gets any worse. Other than the two old ladies, which were still asking questions, everyone around us, (probably not parents themselves), were throwing dirty looks and whispering under their breath. I can still hear you! I’m sweating. I’m yelling at them in my best, we’re in public so I’m not totally lose it but there is hell to pay when we get home, voice. And then they do the unthinkable. They knock over a tray of food. They realize what they’ve done and instantly hide under the two old ladies. As if they are going to be able to protect them. Ha! No way. I leave a huge tip for our waitress, like 90%, and apologize to everyone as I drag them out to the car.
When I say, it was the worst date I’ve ever been on, I mean it. And I’ve been on some pretty shitty dates back in the day. When they woke up this morning they asked in the sweetest voices, “mommy, you still mad?”. Ugh, fact is, I’m not. I do realize I will never be able to go back to that restaurant again, and I’m pretty sure that our faces are plastered at the front counter, but I’m not mad anymore.