Hmmpf. Well, I'm annoyed. Prior to having my daughter, I secretly cringed when parents told me in voices dripping with a condescending, all knowing tone, "Oh, you won't be going to those fancy restaurants once you have children." Whatever. Punks. I was beyond confident that I wouldn't succumb to that horrible parenting disease that makes you suddenly have intense adverse reactions to doing anything remotely resembling adult fun.
Here we are, two and a half years post those blissful, quiet, wine-filled childless years. I have stubbornly dragged my daughter to posh wine bars, sushi joints, fancy-schmancy restaurants, trips out of the country, and trips to the art museum. I must say, for the most part she does very well and actually enjoys these things (I swear I'm not just saying that to make myself feel less selfish).
I'm afraid we may have recently reached a turning point.
The last couple of times we took her to dinner with friends, she decided to behave like someone who has had a bad case of hemorrhoids. I swear, it was like her little butt just couldn't stand to stay in the seat.
Up and down.
Climbing on us.
Sliding under the table.
Tearing open sugar packets.
Gleefully dumping pepper on my food.
All the while, completely oblivious to my complete embarrassment and rising anger. No amount of threats (no ice cream if you don't sit down!) or promises (ice cream if you please sit down??) made any difference. Removing her and having a nice little talk also had no impact. In fact, she seemed to see right through me during our little chat. We just came back to the table and tried more table-side ballet.
Don't worry, my friends. We haven't given up yet. I will not be defeated. But if you see a little family with a 2 1/2 year old in a straight jacket eating at your local Bistro Snobs, fear not. We have it all under control.