Our Peaceful Dinner Out

Yeah right. Using the words peaceful and dinner in the same sentence should have made you look twice.

I decided to take the kids to Chipotle for dinner tonight. I don't know what I was thinking. It all started while I was paying. The kids ran ahead to find a table. They wanted a tall table. I wanted a regular table. I was afraid Danielle would fall off the stool and break her head, and I did not have bandaids or ice cream with me to stop the crying. They settled for another table without much complaining, but while I was getting the drinks a table AWAY from everyone else opened up. I thought that would probably be our best choice, so we switched tables. Panic ensued. Danielle shrieked "Our food! Our food!" (I couldn't carry everything to the new table at once.) We finally got settled.

As I cut their quesadillas, they argued over drinks and wiggled around in their seats. Danielle stood on hers once. Draped herself across it another time. I finally gave the kids their food and settled in to eat mine. After my first bite, Tyler started squirming in that significant way. Ugg. So, we all put our food down and traipsed to the bathroom. Danielle had to touch every empty seat on the way there, even if it was at someone else's table. Tyler got in the bathroom and had to look around. Meanwhile, I had visions of my barely touched burrito being tossed into the trash by some zealous table-cleaner. I erroneously told Tyler my fears and he switched to super speedy mode. He peed in a hurry and then tried to quickly pull up his shorts and undies...at the same time...while hopping up and down. This just made it all take longer. I opened the bathroom door and the kids bolted out at full speed, racing through the restaurant to our table. "It's still there, Mom. It's ok." "Well, of course it is." I said to the onlookers. Like anyone really cleans those tables anyway.

I got the kids back in their seats and sat down in mine. Just as I picked up my burrito, Danielle started to whine about her sandal. I put my burrito back down and tucked her toes back into her sandal. I finally got to sneak in a couple bites before Tyler asked me for a bite. He put his mouth on one part, decided that wasn't the best choice, and took a bite off the other end. Eew. In the meantime, I'm continually telling Danielle to sit down in her seat. Finally, I followed through on my threat and got a high chair for her. That started the screaming. "NOOOOO Mommy! NOOOOO!" Even if no one was paying attention to our antics before, they could all hear us now. I ignored her (and them) and placed her in the highchair, moved her food, and sat down to eat as if nothing had happened. After a couple rather uneventful minutes, something drew my attention to Danielle's chair. She had eaten all the rice and cheese out of her quesadillas and had draped the tortillas over the arms of the high chair, as if they were wet towels hung over a line to dry in the breeze. But before I could react to that, Tyler started squirming again. Now, this kid can hold it forever! How is it he had to go twice in the same meal??? This time it was #2. "Why didn't you go when we were just in there." "I just had to pee then." (5 minutes ago!!) His face was red, he was holding himself, and jumping up and down. And I asked him if he could wait. Duh. Of course not. I reluctantly put down my burrito and corralled everyone to the bathroom. On the way to the bathroom, Danielle tripped over air and sprawled across the floor. The concern over having our food tossed was still weighing on Tyler's mind as he sat on the toilet and muttered "Hurry. Hurry. Hurry." We made it back to the table and everyone sat back down. Just as I was ready to take another bite, Danielle cried about another issue with her sandal. More escaping toes. I just took the shoes off this time.

I finally finished my dinner. We cleaned our table and left the restaurant. (Were those cheers I heard as the door shut behind us?) On the way out I grumbled, "You guys acted like animals in there." Tyler earnestly said, "Really? What kind?" As we walked across the parking lot, Danielle jumped in a mud puddle. Apparently my reflexes had been worn down by dinner because I didn't even register it was there until it was too late. Finally she topped it off by running ahead to a patch of mud, stepping in it, and then climbing into my not-so-new van, where she smeared the mud across the so far stain free floor mats.

I wearily strapped the kids into their seats and hurried home to find the antacid.