Before we had children, Willis and I used to eat out quite a bit. Having two incomes and no kids is a nice life. After G came along, we went out less, but still, he learned pretty early how to behave and going out was not that big of a deal.
This week, Willis said, “Everyone’s had a hard day. Let’s go out for pizza.” I thought it was sweet that he wanted to simplify the evening. So I packed up the diaper bag and grabbed some puzzle books to keep G occupied and off we went.
As we were being shown to a table, I had one of those moments when you suddenly see yourself through the eyes of others. Here we are – a rambunctious little boy with volume control issues, an infant with the potential to start crying at any moment, and their weary parents schlepping bags and bottles and a car seat. We needed four seats for people plus two more to hold our coats and assorted crap. In another time in my life, I would have looked at these people and thought that it would be courteous to others for them to stay out of restaurants. And public places.
The meal went well. G was antsy but well-behaved. Pinky took a bottle and didn’t fuss. Willis and I were at our tag team best keeping this whole circus act under control. We left the server a nice tip to make up for the mess. By the time we ate, got everyone packed back up and back home, I was exhausted. Going out is no longer the easier option.
Hello, Papa Johns?
