Today was the day of the uneaten lunch. Well, two uneaten lunches. Actually, six uneaten lunches. Anyway, let me tell you what happened.
So I was at a local establishment with my parents, who are in town visiting. The kids and I walked down from our house to meet them at their hotel, and we did a little shopping. We thought it would be nice to grab a bite to eat while we were in town. I get a little apprehensive about taking the children to restaurants these days because they’re in a phase where sitting still and being quiet are not in their quality world.
I figured I’d expedite the kids’ meals so that they wouldn’t lose their sh*t any earlier than necessary. After all, lunch time and nap time are synonymous. Our waitress happily put in their order first while the rest of us decided on our meals. Meanwhile, my good friend Julie came in with her mom and son, and they sat at a nearby table. The kids thought this was an incredible arrangement. The other patrons, not so much.
One couple entered, and noticed the kids. Then they noticed that Julie and I were taking up a conversation several tables apart from one another. They asked to be moved. Whatever. We’re very interesting individuals and if that couple didn’t see the luck they had landed when being seated in the same room as us, it’s their loss.
Then another couple entered, and sat down. It appeared as though they were going to stay for the long haul. Or lunch. I assumed they were staying for lunch.
Well, so, you know how it goes. Harrison had to use the bathroom. We went in to the ladies’ room, and he did his business. Somehow, and I don’t know how this happens, but he peed on his pants and underpants WHEN THEY WEREN’T EVEN ON. I don’t get it, but apparently this is one of the joys for raising someone with a penis. So, I threw away the underpants, and decided the shorts hadn’t seen too much damage that they too had to be sacrificed. Naturally, today was the first day since Harrison has been potty trained that I didn’t think to pack extra bottoms for him. So, there I was, back at the lunch table with a kid who wasn’t wearing underpants.
My commando-style son continued his time at the table racing around a new truck he had received for his birthday. Ella had decided to protest the existence of the high chair. Neither child could stay still to save his or her own life, but, since it was only our party, a friend of mine with her family, and one couple that seemed unfazed, I let it go.
Our meals came in good time, and Julie’s table was served as well. I started in on my veggie burger when I heard a yelp from Julie across the room. She screamed, “There’s a bug…crawling out of my salad!” Julie’s mom waved the server over (who was, at the time, taking the orders from the only other table brave enough to sit in that room), to alert her of the disaster. The couple was interrupted mid-order, and it was evident that they were startled by the server abruptly leaving them.
It then became clear to me that my veggie burger was actually a slightly charred hamburger. Now, before we all get in a tither, I am slowly phasing out meat, so this realization came without much alarm. But, when I notified the server that my order was misinterpreted, she blanched at the thought that she made an herbivorous customer consume meat. I let it go, and kind of wished I had a PETA shirt on or something. Anything for a bit of drama.
So there I was, eating lunch, (or rather waiting to do so) in the company of a child who wasn’t wearing underpants, and a friend who couldn’t swallow the thought of a bug in her meal. The one set of people we hoped would remain, quickly departed after the bug debacle, and we were left in the room alone again. Harrison and Ella decided they could not take one more moment in the confines of civilization, and so before my actual veggie burger came, I dismissed myself, along with my children, to walk home. It was a long walk, being nearly 1 pm and not having had lunch. Which brings me back to my first sentence: No lunch for Katie. No lunch for Julie. No lunch for couple who refused to sit near us, and no lunch for pair who didn’t want to eat bugs. I’m not sure that poor restaurant made any money today.