They’ve grown up so quickly. You always heard that time flies, and even though you knew it was true, witnessing the swift passage of an entire chapter—your middle years and their beginnings—felt surreal. You find yourself yearning for moments you once took for granted, even the seemingly mundane experiences of dining out with kids.
You remember how they would squirm in their seats, their little bodies wriggling as if they were bursting with energy, while climbing over you without hesitation, trying to get a glimpse of the table next to yours. You can’t help but miss the way they would affectionately kick your face as you tried to eat, navigating your fork like a bomb disposal expert attempting to avoid disaster.
Honestly, you’ll find yourself missing the experience of dining with a child’s bottom in your face.
You’ll cherish those moments when a bathroom trip would send them darting out of their seats, never in sync with one another. You’ll reminisce about the struggle for croutons on your plate, holding your breath in a mix of hope and despair, wondering if you’d ever get to enjoy your own crouton again.
You’ll laugh at the memories of cold water cascading onto your lap from a spilled drink, and the way those chubby little fingers would fish food out of your mouth while you were still chewing, only for them to decide they didn’t like it and return it to you. You’ll miss downing cheap house chardonnay like it’s soda.
You’ll recall the excitement of watching them drop crayons repeatedly, forcing them to crawl under the table and roll around in old, sticky restaurant debris. You’ll ponder why on earth we give round crayons to tiny hands, a design flaw that seems to plague parents everywhere.
You’ll miss the moments of reaching into their tiny, Jaws-like mouths to retrieve the paper wrapper from their straw. You’ll remember the sibling squabbles that punctuated every meal—those “he said, she said” disputes that always ended in tears—yours mostly.
You’ll find yourself laughing at their nose-picking and the endless cycle of handwashing that leads to your own hands flaking off like panko crumbs. You’ll miss the ritual of scanning menus and often forgetting to order your own food because watching them eat is just too charming.
Your table will often resemble a disaster zone, reminiscent of a hurricane or a robbery, with items strewn about in a chaotic yet oddly purposeful manner. You’ll find yourself tipping more than the total bill, a small price to pay for the memories.
Trust me, as my own children have grown up, I can tell you that you will indeed miss these fleeting moments. So take them out, embrace the spills, the fights, and the delightful mess of it all. I know it’s hard, especially when people tell you to savor every moment of digging crouton crumbs from your clothing or extracting a foot from your face. When that moment arrives, as it inevitably does, I’ll be reaching for the takeout menus or a pack of Goldfish and muttering to myself: “Hello, Dominos? I’d like to place an order for delivery.”
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In summary, while dining out with kids can be chaotic, it is filled with moments that you will one day cherish. Embrace the mess and the laughter, for these fleeting experiences shape the beautiful chaos of parenthood.