Leave The Kids At Home

This article was originally written several years ago for a book idea I was working on called “People Suck”. One of these days I’ll get to finishing it, but I thought that this was a good one for this forum. What you are about to read was actually the second part of a two-part examination of places where adults should never take their kids.

- Enjoy

Although the setting may not pose any unusual risk to small children, good restaurants are still no place for them. For the most part, fast food restaurants and other eateries that come equipped with giant glass play tanks are fine for kids, but why do people insist on bringing them into more upscale restaurants? When I was a child my parents never took me or my brothers and sisters out to any place nicer than a local burger joint until we were old enough to behave ourselves in public. They had manners – and insisted that their children (all nine of us) display them as well. When I was around 8 years old my parents took us out to McDonalds - as they had done a hundred times before - and as we sat and ate adults would come up to us every so often and remark to Mom and Dad on how well behaved we all were. This happened just about every time we went out as a group, but I think that day was the first time I realized what it really meant. This was the standard my family was raised on and I still consider important to this day. With regular conversation aside, I would never dream of doing anything to disturb other diners, but I guess those days are just about over.
These days, every once and a while my wife and I will decide that we’ve earned a night on the town and make plans to go out to eat. After taking the time to dress for the occasion (another seemingly lost art), we will head out to one of the area’s nicer restaurants for a good meal and a relaxed time. Well, whenever we do this it seems like there’s some curse that descends on us like rain. No sooner are we seated and order a drink when the Maitre d’ rounds the corner with a booster chair or highchair(s) in tow. We watch in horror as they head right for the table closest to ours, and sure enough, set up this child accommodation device just inches from us. It doesn’t matter if the restaurant is completely empty; they still seat the group with the kiddies right next to us - every single time.
After a few minutes of us looking at each other with that ‘why the hell does this always happen to us?’ expression on our faces, they show up. Pushing a big-ass stroller (pathetically styled like it’s supposed to be a 4x4 heavy duty off-road Monster Pram – complete with knobby tires and mag wheels) loaded to the gills with every type of baby accessory known to man: Diaper bags, car seats, a portable changing table, a sack full of toys, another bag full of bottles, formula, and baby food, all topped off with a 3-year-old brother who couldn’t sit still if he were duct-taped to a tree.
Our entire evening is normally ruined before these people even touch their seats. It takes about two seconds for the nightmare to commence:

As Mom, Dad, 3-year-old Christopher, and baby Ashley get settled into their table…

Mom: “Christopher, put that down. No Christopher, Mommy said not to touch that. Christopher, don’t touch your sister. Honey, would you please put Christopher in his booster chair while I get the baby’s food ready?”

Dad: “Christopher, what did I tell you about that? No! Don’t touch the saltshaker. Christopher, get in your seat…”

Christopher is now running laps around his table, bouncing off the back of my chair each time he passes…

Christopher: “AAAAHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEE! Ha, he, he AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Mom: “Shhhhhh!”

Dad: “SSShhhhhhhhh!” Christopher, come here. Come here Christopher…”

Christopher: “No! Ha, he he AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! EEEEEAAAAAHHHHHHH!”

Mom: “Shhhhhh!”

Dad: “SSShhhhhhhhh!” Christopher, come here. Chris-to-pher…”

As I get up and retrieve my eardrum from its landing place on the other side of the restaurant, Christopher slips and falls head-first onto the rung of my chair and immediately begins to scream and cry.

Mom: “Honey, I told you to put him…”

Dad: “Christopher, get over here! Right now.”

This crap continues while they wait for their food. Christopher is placated only briefly when the server brings him a few crayons and a color-by-numbers placemat, which Christopher promptly throws on the floor and begins drawing on the table instead. Mom and Dad ignore this fact, letting Christopher do whatever he pleases. The baby spends half the time crying while mom feeds her some foul-smelling orange concoction that she pulled from one of her saddlebags. As all this goes on, Dad preoccupies himself by staring at the waitress’s tush. The perfect family unit.
When they do finally get their food, things only get worse. Christopher doesn’t want to eat what his mother ordered, and dad yells at him about it as he cuts the little holy terror’s food. Mom continuously nitpicks at Dad over what Christopher is doing as she hovers over little baby Ashley (who’s diaper is getting rather ripe and starting to stink up the place). Christopher starts whining louder and louder over his dinner (most of which is now on the floor under and around the table), so Dad lets him get down out of his chair. The second Christopher’s feet touch the floor, he’s off running up and down the isle – bumping into waiters, waitresses, other patrons & their chairs, and basically being a total pain in everyone’s butt.
Once these people have completely destroyed any hope that my wife and I may have of an enjoyable evening, as well as robbing everyone else in the place of the same pleasure, they pack up their stroller, lock the hubs, slip that thing into 4-wheel low and head on down the trail.
When they’re gone and the dust has settled, their table and the immediate surrounding area look like an F-5 tornado has just blown through the place. There’s food all over the floor, table and chairs. Wrappers, napkins and straws are strewn everywhere, and there is more salt and pepper on the table than in the shakers. Sitting right in the middle of the mess - soaked in Christopher’s spilled soda – is a dollar bill and some change – a ‘tip’ left merely in an academic sense.
Why is it that people think behavior like this is acceptable? They take other people’s quiet or romantic evenings and turn them into a picnic in the monkey house at the zoo. When somebody with young children comes into a decent ‘white tablecloth’ establishment and smears them selves all over everyone else’s dining experience, I think they should be taken out into the parking lot and publicly flogged. People who are spending hard-earned money on a nice place to eat shouldn’t have to put up with that kind of crap for any reason. Until restaurants start offering ‘No Children’ sections, if you want to take your kids out to eat, go to Chuck E. Cheese and let the rest of us enjoy our meals in peace.