Children annoy me
I have been in a war with my stove ever since the semester began. This merciless beast has been a sizable foe. Every time I try and go near it, I become subject to burns, salmonella, and more importantly, humiliation. An everyday household appliance, it constantly torments me, leaving me with no option but to outsource all my dining needs.
As a student, this need can become quite expensive, especially with budgetary constraints, I am often left with a daily dilemma as to where I will find my next feast. But on occasion, you have to say no to stale burger meat and Toonie Tuesday and treat yourself to something that doesn’t taste like ashes.
A fellow Carilloner and myself found ourselves in this situation not too long ago. While we usually like to cheap out on a meal and opt for the more appetizing liquid breakfast, lunch, or dinner we decided today would be different. Solid food was on the menu and so was a classy establishment that I like to call Earl’s.
As we entered the restaurant and were bombarded by the usual size zero minor who was delegated to the task of hostess, we were faced with the ultimate choice. A half-hour wait for the lounge or a chance to immediately snag a table in the dining room. Regrettably, we chose the latter of the two.
We sat down, ordered our litre of cheap wine and entrees and proceeded to engage in intellectual conversation. We mused over the meaning of life, the possibilities of time travel, and the latest gossip of which celebrity has which STI, when suddenly our utopia was destroyed.
Our conversation stopped. Our ears began to bleed. And a small child was not getting his way. For the life of me, I could not tell you what it was about. I do not have the patience or desire to be able to decipher the rantings of an upset toddler. All I know is that my buzz was wearing off as not only was little Billy not getting his way, but he thought it was high time to take action by bombarding my dinner companion and myself with his meal. As we attempted to dust the child’s meal from our shoulders and table, we shot the parents’ dirty looks, which appeared to go unrecognized as they were in awe of their little terror, viewing this outburst as a “cute stage.”
Is it just me, or is there something wrong with this? If any other human being was to cause such a spectacle, especially in a restaurant around other paying customers, they would be escorted out, not to mention have all the dirty looks every pair of eyes in the restaurant could spare. But since it is a child, it is cute. Nay, super cute. A level of cuteness that I should forgive and accept, even when it ruins my dining experience.
When I agreed to sit in the restaurant, I did not agree to put up with an ill-behaved child. I understand parenting is just hard, but if you know that little Billy has problems in public restaurants, maybe he is too young to be there. Maybe you should be investing in a baby sitter. I mean, just because you chose to have your child does not mean that I should have to put up with him.
I am not saying that new parents should never be allowed out to restaurants. I just feel that there should be guidelines in place. For example, remember the days of smoking and non-smoking seating areas? How about children and non-children areas? Or even creating an hour in which these children can run amuck in the restaurant without disturbing the other patrons?
All I know is when I go out to drop some money on a decent meal, the last thing I am looking for is a snotty-nosed kid tossing pasta in my direction. And I think that is a reasonable request.