The dreaded dinner out.
No, I don’t have the perfect make up for the either
sorrowful or angry stares you receive when your 3-year-old daughter melts down
because just the tiniest sliver of ketchup touched her cottage cheese or when
your 18-month-old son throws a fit because he wants to hold his own cup and doesn’t like your parental attempts to save the
restaurant from flooding.
But I am a fast eater. I mean really fast. And if there is
anything I have learned as a parent of toddlers, it is that you have a very
short window when eating out. You basically need to plan your get-away while
being seated and ask for the check as soon as your food reaches the table.
Otherwise, you are playing with fire. And I mean fire of the worst kind: a
complete melt-down-by-a-3-year-old fire.
I used to be one of those single guys who ate out by
himself, quietly reading the paper in between trips to the buffet bar. I hated
when my Frisch’s fish sandwich was interrupted by the temper tantrum of a
2-year-old. I looked on in disdain at the parents who couldn’t keep their kids
under control in a public place.
No more.
I now know that there is no
controlling the emotions of a toddler. The littlest things set them off and
getting them back on course is more difficult than moving Disneyland to Ohio.
Threaten to take them to the car? Three things are going to
happen. First, they are going to escalate and get louder at the thought of
losing the privilege of eating out. So your situation actually worsens. Two,
all eyes will be on you when you carry a kicking and screaming toddler from the
restaurant. Embarrassing. Three, you are going to miss your dinner.
Those who know me know I don't like missing dinner.
Threaten punishment at home? As “soon as we get out of here,
I’m going to…” Good luck. They will have long forgotten the incident and
punishment will be a moot point. You can’t learn if you don’t remember why you
are being punished. Children have the attention span of a gnat.
The best thing you can do is prevention. Get out of there
before a melt-down happens.
I am one of the fastest eaters you will ever meet. When I
was a kid, we were poor. Hot dogs were a regular meal. Hot dogs come in packs
of eight. There were five members of our family. I can guarantee my dad was
getting a second dog. The other two were up for grabs to the fastest eaters.
I learned young.
So when it comes to restaurants, my wife and I have a game
plan. We sit down and immediately ask for the kids’ food. That gets delivered
first and we hope it holds their attention. When our food comes, we immediately ask for the check. We sometimes have
to explain our “short window” to the server, but most of the time they get it.
They either have their own kids, or they are thankful we are willing to get out
of there before the floor under our table is covered with Splenda packets.
Then I do my thing. I eat like Hannibal Lector at the county
morgue. My fork flies fast and furious. Just about the time the kids are
starting to get antsy, I am cleaning the last bit of Skyline chili off my plate.
Then, it is wait-and-see time.
If we all get to stay at the table until the wife is
finished, that is a bonus. We just enjoyed a nice family dinner. But if one of
the kids is on the verge of a Tasmanian Devil impersonation, I am free to swoop
them up and run for the car as fast as possible, leaving my lovely bride – and
our fellow diners -- the luxury of a peaceful meal.
Voilà! There you have the Gregg secret to eating out.
Parents-to-be, take heed. Start practicing now. Study the
menu for the shortest cooking times. Learn what goes down smoothly and what
will take time to eat. (This is no time for crab legs, for Heaven’s sake!) Know
what restaurants have the best items of distraction, or bring them with you. (We
have even been known to bring the iPad.)
You heard it here first. Bon Appétit!
No comments:
Post a Comment