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Last Saturday was a whirlwind. Our day was jam-packed with kid activities starting bright and early at 8:30 AM and stretching well into the evening. Why do weekends feel so hectic these days? By the time 7:00 PM rolled around, we finally gathered as a family, all utterly fatigued and ravenous. With no energy left to whip up dinner, my husband, in a noble gesture, suggested we go out to eat.
While it was a kind offer, we overlooked an essential parenting principle: Rule #312 — When children are both tired and hungry, a restaurant is the last place you want to be.
Once the decision was made, we needed to change out of our day’s mess. The older kids managed to don slightly nicer, stain-free outfits. However, I realized Mini was so exhausted she seemed almost delirious when she made her grand entrance. She came down the stairs in a mismatched, shabby sundress, sparkly high heels, and an extravagant faux fur jacket, clutching a purple purse packed with dolls. With a mischievous glint in her eye and a raised eyebrow, she looked ready for a gala.
I shrugged it off and told everyone to hop into the car. I was too drained to argue, and honestly, she resembled a pint-sized Miss Havisham, which was hilarious.
Upon arriving at the restaurant, it became clear that Mini was in a completely different world. She strolled up to the hostess stand, snagged a toothpick, and lethargically yawned as if the entire setting bored her. As we followed the hostess to our table, she click-clacked in her high heels, daintily picking her teeth while holding her purse. She graciously acknowledged the other diners with nods and smiles.
My husband and I exchanged glances, knowing we were in for a wild night. Although turning back seemed tempting, we were all too hungry to head home.
When the waiter approached for drink orders, Mini brightly exclaimed “CHOCOLATE MILK!” as if it were the most obvious choice (she then promptly downed four). As we struggled to contain our horror, she began to sing at the table, starting with her own whimsical creation — which, while delightful, was probably not suited for the restaurant ambiance. She then moved on to a number from Les Misérables.
“Sweetheart, we don’t sing at the table,” I gently reminded her.
“DO YOU HEAR DA PEOPLE SING?!” she shouted back with gusto.
“Please stop. This isn’t appropriate,” I insisted.
“SINGING DA SONGS OF ANGRY MEN!” she defiantly belted out.
Her older brother, Max, chimed in, “I love that song.”
Mini, with a dreamy smile, responded, “Then I am tired of singing it.”
She rested her head on the table for a moment, then looked up and posed dramatically, popping her faux fur collar. My husband remarked, “Good Lord. It’s like dining with Judy Garland in 1969.” I nodded in agreement, wide-eyed.
“I need another drink. Waiter!” Mini called.
The waiter appeared, seemingly drawn by her demand. “What can I get you?”
“I’ll have the —” my husband began.
“CORN DOG!” Mini interjected crazily.
We all stopped to stare at her, bewildered. She was making the most extraordinary face.
“CORN DOG,” she insisted, pointing at me.
“CORN DOG,” she demanded, pointing at her dad.
“‘ORN DOG,” she said, pointing at Max.
“Did she just say horn dog?” I whispered to my husband.
“‘ORN DOG!” she continued, pointing at her sister, still making her wild face.
The waiter, slightly confused but trying to maintain composure, asked, “So, corn dogs?”
“Yes!” Mini nodded enthusiastically, her eyes gleaming. “I HAVE THE HICCUPS NOW.”
The dinner took a turn for the bizarre. We usually share our day’s highlights and lowlights during meals, calling it “Good, Bad, Silly & Grateful.” Mini, however, had other plans. “IT’S TIME FOR GOOD, BAD, SILLY & GRAVY. YOU GO, FIRST. START WITH GRAVY!” she shouted, waving her toothpick.
At that moment, I could only imagine the looks from nearby tables. Meanwhile, her tired siblings were doubled over in laughter, which only fueled her antics.
Finally, our meals arrived, and as we dug in with fervor, I suddenly heard a peculiar sound. Turning, I saw Mini had succumbed to sleep, head thrown back, arms sprawled out, her faux fur jacket providing a cozy cocoon. It was 8:36 PM.
We hastily finished our dinner and headed home. As we tucked our sweet little whirlwind into bed, she kicked off her high heels and murmured her love for us before rolling over with a contented snarl.
We love you too, Mini.
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Summary
Taking an exhausted child to dinner can lead to chaotic and humorous situations, as demonstrated by a family outing gone hilariously awry. With kids, especially when they’re both tired and hungry, it’s essential to pick your battles wisely, sometimes opting for the comfort of home over the unpredictability of dining out.