As a glutton for punishment, I often take my three children to restaurants that are not exactly designed for families. While they technically allow kids, these venues are usually not the first choice for those seeking “family dining.”
My little ones are aged 7, 5, and 3, and they arrive dressed to impress—complete with suit jackets, combed hair, and polished shoes. I wipe their faces with baby wipes, turn down any light-up footwear, and remind them to open doors and place napkins in their laps. At least they appear presentable. But for my 3-year-old, the challenges begin long before we step out the door.
Stage 1: Fashion Resistance
He insists on wearing his favorite cartoon shirt and sneakers, vehemently rejecting the suit jacket. When I attempt to fasten his Oxford shirt buttons, he collapses on the floor, flailing like a distressed octopus. This makes buttoning a challenge, and I inevitably fumble at least once. After wrestling him into a jacket and adding a clip-on bowtie—because who doesn’t love a toddler in a bowtie?—I realize I’m engaging in a form of parental torture.
Stage 2: Winning Over the Staff
When we arrive, he holds my hand and beams, donning a fedora, which instantly melts the hearts of the staff as they’re seated. “Water, please,” he exclaims with an adorable chirp that could charm anyone.
Stage 3: Ice Cube Antics
His drink arrives in a to-go cup, which he finds unacceptable. He quickly resorts to raiding the nearest water glass for ice, munching on it with glee. This ice-eating ritual continues throughout our meal.
Stage 4: The Boredom Sets In
After he’s finished with the ice, he attempts to escape his chair, annoy his siblings, or wield a fork like a sword. After removing sharp objects, I relent and hand him my phone to restore some semblance of adult conversation with my partner. He dives into a game called The Foos, which is supposedly educational but utterly baffling to anyone past the age of 8.
Stage 5: Placing the Order
When it’s time to order, he rejects everything—steak, chicken, fish, and even chicken fingers, settling instead for tater tots. Despite the fact that tater tots are a lunch item, he insists on them. We can only hope the chef doesn’t take offense.
Stage 6: The Tater Tot Debacle
The tater tots arrive, and he immediately sets aside my phone to devour them. Their heat causes him to scream, which prompts the 7-year-old to grab my phone. The 3-year-old reacts dramatically, howling like a wounded animal. After some parental negotiation, I manage to retrieve my phone, and the tots are dunked in water to cool before being hand-fed to him, with ketchup as the secret weapon.
Stage 7: Brief Respite
After consuming the tater tots, the adults begin their meals. Conversations about adult topics fill the air, punctuated by the occasional warning to the children about their behavior. One of the siblings throws a fit over not playing The Foos, leading to an adult escorting the tantruming child outside to avoid unwanted attention.
Stage 8: The Waiting Game
After we’ve finished eating, we wait an eternity for the check, during which the chaos resumes; another sibling throws a fit, and the 3-year-old decides to crawl under the table. I attempt to pull him out, but he giggles until someone touches my phone, triggering another round of wailing. My anxiety mounts as I feel the eyes of the other diners upon us.
Stage 9: The Final Bill
Plates are cleared, and the napkins are whisked away. The 3-year-old clings to his napkin, but I coax him into surrendering it by promising a new level of The Foos. The children bicker over who gets to sign the credit card receipt, and in a questionable parenting move, we let the youngest take a turn, much to the chagrin of his siblings.
Stage 10: The Aftermath
Post-meal, he screams when I take away the phone to strap him into his car seat. His brother, not helping, asks if he can have the phone instead, making me want to tear my hair out. We drive home with the sounds of a tired, ketchup-stained, tater-tot-infused 3-year-old echoing in the background. Did I mention he got ketchup on his suit jacket? Guess who forgot the Tide stick today?
I vow to my husband that we will never do this again. “What were we thinking?” I ask. We agree it’s not worth the hassle—until next Friday night rolls around.
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In summary, navigating a restaurant outing with a young child can be a daunting task, filled with wardrobe struggles, adorable antics, and chaotic dining experiences. Yet, amidst the trials, there are moments of charm and laughter that make it all worthwhile—at least until the next adventure.