Eating Out

I was reminded yesterday why we never, ever, ever go out to eat.

We have a toddler.

Last night after work we took a trip to Roseville to visit the bookstore, since I had exhausted my stockpile of reading material. We decided that since it was past dinnertime already, we would grab a quick meal out; we have not gone out in a couple of months, and P seemed to be in a good mood, so everything would be OK.

It's not that Paul was "bad" per se, it's just that he would rather not be strapped into a high chair when he is surrounded by lights, balloons, loud noises and people; he could have been having so much more fun. He was actually fine; but always, no matter where we go or how long we stay, he decides he is ready to go when we are almost, but not quite, ready ourselves. Little P was finished with his fruit and milk, and had likewise finished coloring and batting around his balloon, and had decided that he was "stuck" and needed to be free of the high chair immediately. He did not quite get to the point of screaming, but close enough, as he called for me (sitting right next to him) to get him out because he was "STUCK, MOMMY!!!!!" I told him I knew he was stuck and he would have to wait a little bit longer, but this was not good enough. He began calling for his Uncle James (who was not even there) in his loudest voice. I finally had Daddy take him outside while I paid, and we had to leave before we were finished.

What a lovely, relaxing dinner... Not.

I guess I do not have much to complain about, since P does not throw food, rarely bangs on the table, and does not cry for freedom until he absolutely cannot stand anymore stimulation, but I hate to have other people's meals disturbed by my kid trying to escape his chair. I think we will just eat at home for the next several years, as it is less stressful and much more peaceful.