Thank you for being patient with us yesterday. My son's become more expressive the past few months of eating out, but never misbehaved as badly as yesterday's lunch. It was a good thing you sat us next to the exit, away from the huge crowds. Still, there were a couple of people that sat near enough from us who shot us a number of dirty looks so I know we didn't go unnoticed.
I keep thinking maybe things wouldn't have been so crazy had we opted for the high chair instead of the booster seat, but then again, maybe it was something else. Maybe it was your music. Ethan loves to dance... and the mariachi music definitely got him shaking his groove thang on the chair and even tried to dance on the table a couple of times. He would've protested if we would've put him in the high chair anyway, I suppose it's a little difficult to dance when you're strapped in a wooden contraption. Maybe it was all those Corona blow up balloons and pinatas hanging from your ceiling. They were so festive they were almost distracting than decorative. He kept swinging his arms yelling "play ball" which I'm sure he was imagining just taking a stick and wacking one of your decorations. Maybe it was the salsa. Did you put something in it that would send anyone berserk? We let him eat a couple of your freshly made nachos and dip them in the salsa and he just wasn't the same after that.
Between moving the drinks, knives, and hot plates around to keep them out of reach, I was almost tempted to let him take a sip from the Tabasco bottle to see if it would hush the shrills for a minute. But I felt bad even entertaining the thought, so I kept moving that too. It wasn't until Ethan decided that it would be more fun to have all our food on other surface areas -mostly the floor- instead of the plates that I really started to shrink. A couple of you guys must've noticed that I was about to self-combust so you came over to try to console the shrieking the wild beast even though you hardly spoke any English. I just kept thinking, if you were really trying to be nice, you could've just handed me a beer.
Of course, it didn't help that my husband graciously excused himself to take a nap in the car the entire time I was trying to survive lunch. While I sympathized that he wasn't feeling too well, I had hoped that he could've at least warned me that I was about to deal with toddler hellfire by myself... I could've saved us the trouble by taking our burritos to go.
I realize that the tip I left was twice as much as my meal cost (the meal that I didn't even get to eat), but I left that in goodwill that you will let us dine at your restaurant again should we ever brave taking my son out to eat ever again.
I keep thinking maybe things wouldn't have been so crazy had we opted for the high chair instead of the booster seat, but then again, maybe it was something else. Maybe it was your music. Ethan loves to dance... and the mariachi music definitely got him shaking his groove thang on the chair and even tried to dance on the table a couple of times. He would've protested if we would've put him in the high chair anyway, I suppose it's a little difficult to dance when you're strapped in a wooden contraption. Maybe it was all those Corona blow up balloons and pinatas hanging from your ceiling. They were so festive they were almost distracting than decorative. He kept swinging his arms yelling "play ball" which I'm sure he was imagining just taking a stick and wacking one of your decorations. Maybe it was the salsa. Did you put something in it that would send anyone berserk? We let him eat a couple of your freshly made nachos and dip them in the salsa and he just wasn't the same after that.
Between moving the drinks, knives, and hot plates around to keep them out of reach, I was almost tempted to let him take a sip from the Tabasco bottle to see if it would hush the shrills for a minute. But I felt bad even entertaining the thought, so I kept moving that too. It wasn't until Ethan decided that it would be more fun to have all our food on other surface areas -mostly the floor- instead of the plates that I really started to shrink. A couple of you guys must've noticed that I was about to self-combust so you came over to try to console the shrieking the wild beast even though you hardly spoke any English. I just kept thinking, if you were really trying to be nice, you could've just handed me a beer.
Of course, it didn't help that my husband graciously excused himself to take a nap in the car the entire time I was trying to survive lunch. While I sympathized that he wasn't feeling too well, I had hoped that he could've at least warned me that I was about to deal with toddler hellfire by myself... I could've saved us the trouble by taking our burritos to go.
I realize that the tip I left was twice as much as my meal cost (the meal that I didn't even get to eat), but I left that in goodwill that you will let us dine at your restaurant again should we ever brave taking my son out to eat ever again.
5 comments:
I have a sneaking suspicion that one day I will be copying and pasting this blog onto my page but inserting "Sophia" everytime it says "Ethan." Hang in there...it's gotta get better right? :0)
Ya got anything going on this weekend? Maybe we can GTG at a park or pool.
Oh, Anne, I feel for you. I've been there. It stinks because you know every person there (especially those with no kids) think horrible thoughts but we've all been there. My son spent ages 12 months through 18 months on restaurant probation. The food throwing greatly improves after that.
You're so funny! This reminds me of our Friday night - Mexican restuarant and all. I think we are going to take a break from eating out for a while.
We have been there or will soon be there. Better luck next time, right?
I don't know about the next time... maybe when he turns 18? LOL --- it's getting harder and harder to take him anywhere! I sure hope it's just a phase....
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