We wait for almost 45 minutes to get seated. The restaurant is busy but not overly so. But because we have two little children, the wait is longer than expected. My parents in law join us just in time as we are escorted to the table. The booster is placed and so is the high chair. We put A in the high chair, hoping that she will stay in there for the duration of the meal.
The appetizers and drinks are ordered. A is still in her chair, busy scribbling on the kids menu with a crayon. D keeps himself busy trying to read. He is in the alphabet phase now. So every time he sees any letters, he gets busy, we thank the dear lord. The drinks come. A still is in her chair. So far so good.
We start to enjoy our drinks. A spots a tall glass of water and indicates to me that she wants a sip. She is still sitting. Very good. I decide to give her some water with a straw. She enjoys this and asks for more. Still in her high chair.
I begin to tell myself that may be it won't be as bad as I expect it to be. Things seem to be under control unlike the other times when we have had to hurry out of a restaurant before a screaming, wailing baby disgust the patrons and we are asked to leave. It has happened too many times now and it is one of the reasons why we have stopped eating out as much as we used to.
But this evening is turning out to be different. Maybe she doesn't mind the high chair anymore, may be she likes to be out dining with her family, maybe her social skills developed prematurely, maybe she decided to give her parents a break, finally, maybe......
Down, Down, Down. Did she just say that? I look at her and she is almost out of the chair, one tiny leg dangling over the chair. *hope crashes and falls flat on its face*
Down, Down, the little voice getting louder with every down. No, A, please sit OK?
Down, Down, Down...
Here take the blue crayon now and draw some more.
She takes the crayon and flings it across the table.
A, No!
Here, look, see the little girl on the menu.
She picks up the kids menu and throws it on to the floor.
Down, Down , Down...now almost crying.
Hubby dear quickly gets up and picks her up, hoping she would now stop. She did stop, but just for a few seconds. Her crying now turning almost into a hysterical wail. She points towards me. I jump and bring her over to my side of the table, praying fervently that she will stop. Sheepishly, I look around to spot glares, disgusted looks, but luckily don't see any. She calms down. I decide to let her sit on the table since our food hadn't arrived and she seems quite happy.
I look at Hubby dear and we both shake our heads. There goes our dinner.
For the rest of the meal, I end up holding A, who refuses to sit anymore ( she would cry the minute we put her down!). I chomp on my food with her standing next to me on my seat. So here I am-juggling a fork, a knife and a very cranky baby (it was also way past her bedtime by then!) and trying to make the most of the New Orleans seafood. And why is that the food always is mouth watering delicious when you have a crying baby to tend to?
In the end, we all chow down our food in record time. A's crankiness worsens towards the end of the meal and Hubby dear whisks her to the waiting area while I take care of the check and pack the left overs (most of the food) in boxes to take home.
So much for eating out. Alas!
Will we ever get back to enjoying a nice, uninterrupted meal in a public place? Not likely in the near future.
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