A Step-by-Step Guide to Dining Out with Small Children

No technology involved. (Lie.)

(Photo credit: RoniLoren, flickr)

Taking your small child to a restaurant is a fun experience that is always worth the effort. (Lie.)

I’ve been a parent for five-and-a-half years and am therefore an expert at all the parenting things. (Lie.) I’m here to share my step-by-step success plan to ensure a pleasant, harmonious dining experience. The best part is that there is no technology involved!***

***Lie.

Before You Leave the House

1. Shove every toy your child owns into a bag. Don’t overlook anything. If you forget that chewed-up hunk of pink plastic that used to be a Barbie shoe, that is the one thing your child will want.
2. Pack some food your child likes to eat, because they don’t like the chicken fingers at that restaurant. And don’t bother choosing the restaurant where they do like the chicken fingers, because they don’t like the chicken fingers at that restaurant, either.
3. Put your child on the toilet and refuse to leave until they pee. Sit there for an hour if you have to. If you don’t make them go now, they’ll just wait until you’re ten minutes down the road. ***

***This will probably happen anyway.

In the Car

1. Sing all of your child’s favorite songs on the way to the restaurant. This ensures that they will be in a good mood once you arrive. Children love the sound of their parents’ voices and never scream, “STOP IT, YOU AREN’T THE SINGER OF THIS SONG!”
2. After a rousing round of “Let it Go,” scan the radio for something your child might like. Briefly question your parenting skills as she shrieks in delight when you land on David Guetta’s, “Hey Mama.”

At the Restaurant

1. Unpack your supplies including all the toys, the snacks (tortillas, Go-Gurt, and an entire jar of baby dill pickles), some paper, and crayons.
2. After you’re seated, you noticed you’re near a young, hip family with an adorable daughter around your kid’s age. You smile and secretly hope you’ll become friends, because you are also young and hip. ***

***You are actually neither of those things.

Waiting for the Food to Come

1. Teach your child to play Tic-Tac-Toe. Let them win three times, but beat them the fourth time. Explain that you can’t win all the time; maybe they should try harder to not be such a loser.
2. Glare at Hipster Mom. She is giving you a dirty look for calling your child a loser. Who the hell does she think she is? Like she’s never called her kid a loser before. Pfff. Look at her and her stupid, perfect kid who isn’t licking anything she shouldn’t be licking.
3. After your child screeches that they have to poop, take them to the bathroom. Put them on the toilet. Sigh as they smile and inform you that they just had to fart. Stifle a scream as they touch the toilet and then touch you on your face.

When the Meal Arrives

1. Reach for your fork and prepare to take a bite of your meal. Put it down; your kid is shrieking about having to poop again.
2. Get back to the table. Ask your partner to retrieve your child from under the booth. They’ve slinked their way down to the floor and are now wiggling around like a giant earthworm.
3. Tell your child that if they don’t eat their dinner, you’re going to throw their toys away.
4. Hipster Mom is giving you some Grade A side-eye. Flip her off when your kid isn’t looking. Shut up and drink your whiskey flight, Hipster Mom.
5. Take the first bite of your meal.
6. Help your spouse clean up the drink your child just spilled.
7. Attempt to have a conversation with your partner. Get interrupted fifteen times because your child has something “really important to tell you.” ***

***The really important thing is that sometimes, snow leopards poop.

8. Attempt conversation with your partner again. Get interrupted. Four more times. Silently count to ten and think of a way to keep your kid quiet and occupied for just five damn minutes so you can eat your food and talk with your spouse.

…………..

9. Pull out your phone and hand it to your child. Say a silent word of thanks to the late Mr. Jobs as you dig into your meal and have a full, adult conversation with your spouse for the first time in twelve hours. Vow that next time, you’ll leave the device at home. ***

***Or not. Whatever.