The Imposter Children

Last night we ate dinner at a nice restaurant.  Nice meaning the boys had to wear shirts with collars and buttons and shoes that weren’t Crocs.  Toward the end of the meal, our waiter pulled me aside to tell me how impressed he was with our boys.  He said, “I just want you to know, your kids were great.  They were so well-behaved.”

I thought this:  I’m just as shocked as you are!  Normally, they’re a complete disaster in a restaurant, especially in a nice one like this.  I expected them to be a hot mess of whining and complaining.  I anticipated endless unnecessary trips to the bathroom.  Tonight, they did none of that.  And they actually ate the food they were served!  Dylan even ate a new shape of pasta.  Pappardelle for fuck’s sake!  Someone must’ve drugged them.  Either that, or they’re imposter children.  The real Dylan and Riley have been snatched!

I said this:  “Thank you.”

Take note, fellow Mamas (and Daddies), I received and accepted a compliment about my children’s behavior, which means I received and accepted a compliment about my parenting.  I’m trying hard to be present in this glorious moment and soak it all in, but in the back of my mind, I can’t help but wonder if maybe they are imposter children, because they slept until almost 8am this morning, which is lovely but odd for my little roosters.

The impostors.

p.s. I’ll be documenting peculiar, er, I mean, good behavior for the remainder of the day.