It’s Saturday night, and, as usual, we have no babysitter. In 20 years, when someone asks me what I regret most about my life, I will tell them it was not having a weekly Saturday night babysitter who showed up in lightning, downpour, power outage or hurricane (we live in Florida).
Babysitter or not, we were itching to get out of the house so we braved our local sports bar & grill with both kids, a place that is great because there are huge TVs everywhere and it’s loud enough that a screaming baby doesn’t attract too much attention.
We ordered drinks, appetizers and dinner all at once hoping we’d get through the meal before either one of the kids melted down. We barely got through the Tex Mex chicken rolls when Riley began squirming in his highchair and Dylan started the lovely game of pushing his brother’s highchair away from the table into the busy aisle with his feet. (Who invents a highchair on wheels? Don’t they know how annoying this will be to parents?)
Anyway, we threatened time-outs half a dozen times, distracted Riley with straws and oyster crackers and ate our dinner as quickly as we could. We were back in the car and on our way home within an hour that felt like four. Nothing broke and no one was hurt, but fun is not a word I would use to describe the evening.
We’re home now and wondering why we went out in the first place, and I’m sure (I hope?) we’re not alone. Does anyone else out here have any regrettable dinner-out-with-children stories? Let me know.
Happy Saturday night…especially to those with babysitters!