As the parents of one small child, we’re still working out the kinks in our parenting style. One of the touchy aspects is bringing a small child into public, specifically restaurants.
Oh boy, do we ever see blogs and columns and articles berating parents for having the temerity to bring a small child into a public place where she might giggle and thus disturb the carefully arranged personality disorders of other diners. But what’s a parent to do? Is our society so hostile toward children that parents must hide away until their children are old enough to act arrogant and surly like the adult patrons?
We’re not talking about letting our child run riot through the restaurant like a drug-addled Hollywood semi-starlet.
Yes, yes, we should hire a babysitter. I’ll do that right after after I pick some cash from the money tree. Eating out is expensive enough without having to hire domestic help like I’m a Democratic presidential candidate. Of course, in a very fortuitous arrangement, the aforementioned money tree is planted right next to the babysitter tree, which is handy because we don’t know a single babysitting teenager or college student otherwise.
Now, we don’t go to fine dining establishments with her. The last nice restaurant we went to was Cilantro in Salem several months ago, which we could do because Melanie’s dad was visiting and offered to babysit. Otherwise, we try to go to “family-friendly” restaurants (i.e. noisy, garish, and cheap) at off-hours (i.e. before the dinner rush); places that are usually so loud you couldn’t possibly hear our children make noise; places that more often than not serve food on trays. If you have to be your own waiter and busboy, customers have no right to expect a fine-dining experience.
Of course, we’re not talking about letting our child run riot through the restaurant like a drug-addled Hollywood semi-starlet. We don’t let her run around, we take her outside if she starts crying, and we make sure to clean up any mess she spills on the floor. I don’t think Lindsay Lohan’s handlers do even as much.
Is there a happy medium? Can we make a pact with the dining public? If we promise not to ignore our child’s unacceptable behavior, can the rest of the world not look at her like Hellspawn, sigh loudly at our entrance to the dining room, or roll their eyes at the slightest peep from her?
And I’ll throw in my promise not to comment on their overloud and “too-much-information” cell phone conversations. Deal?
