we can't take him anywhere

Well, we had a good run of it - almost 5 months of being able to take Drew out to a restaurant without embarrassing ourselves.

When he was younger than six months, I didn't like to take him out because I was still exclusively breastfeeding. Yes, yes, it's natural and all that, but I'm just not comfortable whipping out my boobs in a public place. If you are, that's great, I am filled with nothing but admiration for you. But I won't even wear a bikini at the beach.

After he moved on to the bottle, we had a damn-near idyllic period of a few months where we could take him out to a restaurant and he'd sit in his portable seat and drink his bottle and go to sleep, leaving us to savor our meal and smugly congratulate each other on what a picture-perfect family we were.

Then, once he learned to sit up, we had a period of a few more months where he'd sit in a high chair and cheerfully munch on Cheerios throughout the whole meal, leaving us to savor our meal and pat each other on the back about how well we were raising him and how well-behaved he was.

We shouldn't have done so much patting and congratulating. I think God saw this, and He was displeased with our complacent overconfidence, and He threw a big old curve ball at us.

Our once-mannerly son, in the short space of a few days, has turned into a bossy, demanding demon child spawned straight from the smoking pits of Hell.

Our first indication that our son might no longer be appropriate to unleash on an unsuspecting public came on Saturday, when we went with our friend Nancy to the city Literacy Association's big book sale.

Drew first decided he didn't want to sit in his stroller. This wasn't that big of a deal, as Charles could carry him easily and the stroller made a great carrying case for all of our books.

After we finished buying our books, though, we decided to press our luck by going out to lunch. We chose a nice, quiet little Indian restaurant. Quiet, at least, until we arrived.

Drew deceptively behaved himself until after we had placed our orders, thus irrevocably committing ourselves to the meal, at which point he began to yell. At the top of his lungs. He wasn't angry or crying; he was just yelling, presumably just to hear the sound of his voice. It wasn't until we both shushed him that he got angry and started to yell in earnest.

Now people are starting to turn around and stare. There's a couple across the aisle from us who also have a baby - a quiet, sleeping, three-or-four-month-old baby. This couple looks at us, looks at each other and smirks down at their perfectly quiet angel of peace and harmony, as if noting the stark contrast from our hellspawn screamer.

Yeah, yeah. Don't worry. God will get you, too, just like He got us.

Now Drew is turning purple. The Cheerios aren't appeasing him, neither are the bottle or the rattly toy - everything we hand him gets hurled to the floor. My friend Nancy looks sympathetic, but everyone else in the restaurant looks like they're gearing up to form a lynch mob.

Charles finally pulls Drew from his high chair and takes him outside while Nancy and I finish up our meals and pay. I could swear I heard applause as Charles exited the building.

So. You'd think we would learn our lesson, but actually, we figured that was just a fluke. Drew must have been teething. Yeah. And that made him cranky. Teething is a wonderful thing to blame pretty much everything on - drooling, crying, waking up at 4 a.m. and not going back to sleep, throwing up, diarrhea, acting like a brat in public...I think we feel more in control (and less like the world's most incompetent parents) if we have something to which to attribute all of this behavior. It's not that our son is inherently cranky, poopy or drooly, he's TEETHING, so all is well. When he's not teething, he's a perfectly adorable child, the very picture of propriety, a veritable cherub. So, OK, lately he's always teething, but I mean, come on, he has a lot of teeth to grow - from scratch. That can't be easy.

So, on Sunday, after church, we heard glowing reports from the nursery staff - Drew was just precious - entertaining, happy, smiling, chuckling - a little ball of pure joy. There's the son we know and love - the son who makes us look like we're decent, responsible parents who know exactly what we're doing.

So, we figure, what the hell. He's obviously in a good mood. Yesterday, well, he was TEETHING, and today, apparently, his molars are on a break, so let's go out to eat!

Yes, we are this stupid. It just comes naturally. We don't even have to practice or anything.

So, there we are, in the restaurant, and I should have realized that it wasn't going to work out when he grabbed the crayon that the waitress offered him, bit off a hunk of it, hurled it to the floor and then started banging his open palms on the table, all the while yelling "Daaaaaaaa. Daaaaaaa. Daaaaaaaa."

"He's calling you," I said helpfully to Charles, who was shaking his head in despair.

People are starting to stare, and we haven't even gotten our order yet.

Charles took Drew out of his high chair and placed him on the booth seat next to him, I guess hoping that proximity to one of us would calm him down enough for us to eat, if not actually enjoy what we were eating.

Drew, not desiring to sit, pulled himself up by the back of the booth, reached out and grabbed the hair of the child sitting behind us.

Oh, very nice. Now our son is assaulting the other patrons.

I tried to take him, but within a few short minutes he had climbed up my stomach and was holding on to my hair with one hand and my nose with the other, while leaning over trying to see who was in the booth behind me. As his feet are digging into my sternum, Charles smiles and says, "You want me to take him back?"

"Nooooooooooooo," I groan breathlessly. "Why?"

"Well, it looks like he's kicking your ass."

Needless to say, this adventure ended with us ordering our food "to go" and marching Drew and our boxes of cooling food out the door. I swear I heard applause this time, too.

"We aren't taking him out to a restaurant again until he enters high school," Charles said.

"Yeah, then he won't want to be seen with us."

"That's what makes it so perfect."

"Oh yeah, true. We can take him out and then we can throw our food on the floor and yell at him and embarrass him in front of all his little high school friends."

"That's a date. I'll put it on the calendar for August, 2021."

Comments

[Jan]

Welcome to the carry-out club. I must say I feel a certain bit of satisfaction to know that other children behave as mind does in a restaurant. And as for the screaming "just because he can," get used to it. He will do this off and on for many months to come. See what you have to look forward to?

[Nan]

Oh, that wasn't sympathy you saw on my face, it was amusement. Drew has inherited his mother's flair for the dramatic and his father's comfort in speaking one's mind. And if I wasn't mistaken, I think I saw a bit of "you'll get yours one day, Auntie Nan" cross your and Charles's faces...

[ebeth]

amy - i have to smile at this. :) it gets easier once they can crayon and eat food from the menu. hang in there.

[Mom]

I think Nancy has it down right! Just look what you did as a child and throw in Charles and WOW we have Drew!!!!!! I don't remember going out to eat until BOTH of you, Jenn and you were old enough to share a hamburger at Steak 'n Shake! When do you want us to take him for a weekend or a week day!

[Amy]

Ahaha - thanks for all of the encouragement!
It's nice to know that he's not just going through a short phase, but rather a long vacation from normal civilized manners! :)
And you will get yours, Nan. I'll be there to see it, too, and I will laugh and laugh and laugh.
Mom - how about this weekend?