This is my two year old. Crawling like a baby under someone else’s table at a restaurant. And instead of jumping out of my chair to grab and scold him I am jiggling the baby and watching my husband fish him out. And of course taking a picture. How did this happen you ask? How did I end up at a respectable establishment with my personal Tanzanian devil?
Because we forget. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, maybe it’s the deep rooted optimism that encouraged us to make tiny people with our genitals in the first place who knows. But we honestly forget. We think “Wouldn’t it be fun to go out? We could have food that someone else cooked and drink a few frosty beers and it would be like old times.” Except it’s not like old times. It’s like new times. Times where my son yells “MY KNIFE!” at the top of his lungs while chopping the table with two steak knives at lightning speed and with Gordon Ramsay intensity. Times when I pop a boob out with zero shame and feed the screaming baby while shoveling my food in my mouth knowing full well this is about to go sideways. Times when I wave down the server with the wild and terrified look of one about to be run down by a stampede of wildabeasts while the toddler stabs everyone’s food with fancy topped toothpicks.
So as a public service announcement to all young single people like the two trendy young women next to us giving us the greasy eyeball; I apologize. Yes we took our tiny people to a restaurant. And you happened to be there. And it may have made your evening slightly less enjoyable. And you may wonder why the hell we do this in the first place. So I apologize, but only a little. Because if the night goes like I think it will you may be acting a lot like my toddler after another 5 Jose shots. And swearing you will never do it again. And then you will forget, just like I do. Then a few weeks from now there we both will be walking in some establishment with unbridled enthusiasm about the amazing time we are going to have.