Major excitement in the house of The Flying Martinis last night as Meeester M takes possession of his new car.
Yes, Reader, why you ARE right to mention that not that long ago I was blogging about getting a new car. Yes, yes, I know, it DOES seem a little weird that I am still driving the same hunk-a-junk and Meeester has a shiny new beast of a thing. No, I haven’t got my Mini yet, but thanks for asking anyway.
Anyway, let’s move on, for he reads this…
Anyway, we went out in Meeester’s new toy last night to “ooh!” and “aah!” and be shouted at when we brought dirt into the car, played with the sat nav or electric windows. Feeling that we shouldn’t randomly waste diesel on a destination-less journey, I suggested we eat out. I got dressed up and everything! Just look at the pic below if you don't believe me!
My kids are used to eating in restaurants, as we travel with them quite a bit. In other countries. Where they don’t hate children.
Eating out with kids in countries such as Greece, Italy or Thailand is a stress free situation. Yet over here, you are corralled into so called kid friendly emporiums of burgers, beans and ball pits (note to any kids reading, tell Mummy and Daddy if you see a brown ball immediately. ) I hate these places and like to avoid them. The deal is that your kids can go daft and it's OK, as there are always worse behaved kids there to make yours look not so bad in comparison. You can see the appeal.
This is not because parents are implanted with a chip that takes away your free will and zombie-like you are driven to these urine stained, nugget-touting eateries of Satan. There is no law that we can’t take our kids to real restaurants; there’s just bitter experience of parents dealing with other diners in this country. It just isn’t expected that families go to anywhere decent. So most people just don’t.
I remember that my parents used to take us to an Italian Restaurant in this town when we first moved here from Glasgow in the late nineteenth century. They didn’t know many folk, had left all their willing babysitters behind in God’s Country. What to do? Take the kids with you of course! We always got sat either next to the toilets or near the kitchens. We would get hidden from other diners by the restaurant staff.
There are a few exceptions in this fair town, and I feel I to name check the fantastic “La Stella” Restaurant who are, not only a lovely bunch of folk but they welcome your children. The food is also great and there’s not a ball pit or a chicken nugget in sight.
I also have to name check the fantastic “Meditaranneo” Italian restaurant which is run by REAL ITALIANS who make the best lasagne this side of Milano and who last night welcomed the Martinis with open arms.
So it’s not all restaurants that are gits. But I’m afraid it’s the other diners. Junior Misssy is a bit shrill and she likes a bit of a laugh. She is four. She also likes to go to the toilet for a wee look occasionally. She is not badly behaved, she doesn’t scream the place down, run about or go over and annoy other customers.
However last night it seemed like every time she opened her mouth other customers would turn round and look at us. I found myself feeling inhibited and shushing her quite a lot. Meeester told me to stop, “Let them look, she’s just talking”. He’s right, I stop shushing her, we have as much right to be here as that work’s party struggling to make conversation and that couple who are clearly on a first date and a bit skittish.
Then this:
Junior Misssy: “Mummy, I need to go to the toilet!”
Misssy: “You’ve just been. Sit round and eat your dinner.”
Junior Misssy: “But I ne-e-e-ed!”
Misssy: “You don’t. This is a nonsense. You just want to go and play in the toilet. Now sit round! You’ve already been!”
People are now looking over. It is a small restaurant, not much bigger than a decent sized living room really.
Junior Misssy: “But that was for a wee-wee”
Misssy: “Junior Misssy, no! Sit down!”
Junior Misssy: (with a degree of urgency, volume and annoyance): “BUT IT’S A JOBBY AND IT’S COMING OUT OF MY BUM!”
Cheque please!
11 comments:
that's brilliant!
I've been wondering where I could take the family to eat up here. Like you say it's been entirely burger/pizza based until now. I will make a mental note of La Stella and Meditaranneo. Thanks for the info.
I think that all "kids say the darndest things" type utterings should be celebrated. It's comedy of the highest standard.
btk
I lie, we hit Jimmy Cheungs in Stoneywood a couple of weeks ago and they were excellent with the kids, especially the baby, with plenty of high chairs for everyone(there were another 2 couples using high chairs at the time) and the benefit of buffet that the kids will actually eat something.
btk
God that brings back memories ... not the best kind, the embarrassing kind LOL
I've no children, but I'm equally not a child-hater. I don't think parents should be condemned to a life of burger bars, but I do think children should be taught to behave nicely in restaurants.
I had lunch with a friend in the Foyer at the end of last year, and spent the entire time "entertaining" a very sweet little boy who took quite a shine to me and kept coming up to present me with stuff he'd picked up off the floor. Very cute, the first three times, by the 300th, less so. If I'm paying £13 for a bit of chicken, I expect to be able to eat it in peace.
His mummy kept giving me those "kids, eh?" type glances, but was clearly thrilled that she could swill down her wine in peace. If that had been me, my mother would have been mortified and I'd have been made to sit on my arse quietly and leave the nice ladies alone. In fact, I'd never have dared to leave the table!
BTK- Welcome back- La Stella A definately Martini fave
George-junior Misssy is not one for understatement
Cat- Oh I agree- I hate it when parents sit swilling while the rest of us have to put up with their kids. I used to work in the Lemon Tree and a great deal of lunching Mums seemed to think the staff were also nannies. Not on.
Wait until you try "eating" with sullen teenagers who would rather be any place else. reminds me of a story ( probably urban myth )BBC Scotland had just obtained live remote capability and proudly interviewed passengers arriving from fist London/Glasgow high speed. Asked of his recollection one young nippers comment " I did a jobby in the washhand basin " Cut immedietely to mortified studio host.
Out of the mouths of babes...
LMAO!
So she was "Prairie Dogging" it eh?
Well, at least she really gave the other patrons something to "chew" on!
Newmexikid- Welcome. I believe every word...
Mr Farty- so that phrase goes..Out of the mouths of babes, come phrases that get their parents banned from public places..?
Scot- Be thankful those pugs of yours can't talk.
Your children delight me.
I am, they'd drive me and the Mrs. crazy if they were able!
But we love em as if they were our own flesh and blood!
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