If you are a parent then you know how the conversation–or rather, the lecture–goes. You pull into the parking lot of the restaurant and before unloading you give the following instructions:

“You are going to be on your absolute best behavior. Right?”

They nod and assure you, their mother, of course they will.

“Use your inside voices. Walk, don’t run. Once we sit down, stay seated, facing the table.”

“Yes, Mama.” They assure you.

You have such high hopes. But you remind them one more time–because you have been through this many times before, “NO yelling. NO whining. NO crying. NO SCREAMING. NO running or getting up from the table. NO staring. You will do exactly as you are told or we will leave the restaurant and go home without eating.”

They know you will do it. You’ve done it before.

You walk to the door, they are skipping, barely keeping it below a run, they are so excited. You walk in the door and tell the hostess you need a table for five, two adults and three young children are in your party. Not to worry, it’s supposed to be a family friendly restaurant. But still, you can’t stand other people’s children running amuk and you certainly won’t allow your children to do it either. Family friendly restaurant or not.

Then you stand and wait for them to find seating. Meanwhile the children begin to jump in place. Their voices rise. The five year old announces loudly, “I farted!”

“SHH!”

“I farted again!”

She didn’t get the hint. You lean over to speak directly, sternly in her ear, reminding her once again, “YOU DO NOT NEED TO ANNOUNCE YOUR BODILY FUNCTIONS IN PUBLIC.”

She giggles.

The five year old and three and half year old take turns darting around the waiting area and into the restaurant’s gift shop and over to the stairs. They really want to go upstairs. It’s fun to eat up there.

“Come stand by me.”

“WE WANT TO GO UPSTAIRS!”

The five year old still has trouble keeping her volume to an inside level. The three year old is completely incapable. But you remind both children anyway. No matter how futile the effort seems.

Their excitement continues to mount, you can see this heading out of control, so you firmly take them by the elbows out the front doors.

The six and half year old begins to lose his shit. “I DON’T WANT TO GO HOME! I WAS GOOD!”

“SHHHH!”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“I know you didn’t do anything, but if you keep squealing and whining we will leave because of you instead of them, so hush!”

You sit the five and three year olds down outside and once again remind them of what you expect. They promise to be good. You remind them again that you will load them back into the car and go home without dinner.

“We will be good. We promise!”

You hope so. But you have your doubts. You’ve been through this before.

Finally your family is seated. Things are actually going fairly well–at least they are once the waiter finally gets you drinks and crackers to tide the three year old over from demanding his dinner. NOW. You only have to tell the five year old to sit back down once, when she announces she wants to give everyone hugs.

The meal arrives and you hush the three year old throughout the meal as his volume approaches outburst level.

He’s not crying or whining or screaming. He’s happy. He’s exuberant. But you know that doesn’t matter to many childless diners. They don’t care why the child is making noise. They want the child silent. You try to find a balance between letting the children be children and being courteous and considerate to other diners.

You are never sure how well you are doing at that effort. The paranoia of being a parent eating out with young children sits heavily on your shoulders.

The three year old escapes once. It’s not unusual. Again this is something he’s done many times before. This time he was looking for a trash can to throw away his trash. That’s progress! In the past it has been to explore–or just to see if Mommy or Daddy can catch him before he gets out the door and across the street.

He didn’t make any noise other than to giggle and say loudly “HEY!” when his daddy caught him.

But you get the evil eye from a few childless diners anyway.

The remainder of the meal is finished with intermittent growls from the three year old pretending to be a dinosaur.

Then as you are waiting to pay the check you feel a hand on your shoulder and look up into the eyes of a woman 15-20 years your senior. She smiles warmly and says, “I wanted to tell you that your children were very well behaved. I have four children so I get it. They did good.”

Then she turned to the children and said, “You guys did very good. You were well-behaved.”

You smile and thank her and she says “I know how it is. Trust me, they were good, and YOU two did well too.”

And that takes you happily out the door and home for the night where bedtime for the children is only minutes away.

As a parent, you know how it goes. You get plenty of glares–or perceived glares–whether you and the kids deserve them or not. But every once in a while, someone speaks up and says to you that your children were well-behaved and that you are doing a good job too. And just like children, you crave the praise and reassurance that you are doing what you are supposed to do. It feels good to get that hand on the shoulder and smile and praise when it comes.

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