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In today's tough economy and desperate financial landscape, taking your kids out to eat at a fancy restaurant is probably not the best way to go about tightening your purse straps. I decided recently to do it anyway and learned a valuable, albeit embarrassing, lesson on the dangers of projecting my fears of a tough economy and desperate financial landscape onto said children.
Our monthly fine dining trips actually began almost two years ago as a lesson on proper behavior when in public. I suppose a cheaper alternative could have been McDonalds or perhaps the Red Lobster, but have you seen the little miscreants running about in those places?
I've always believed that leading by example was a more powerful motivator than the convenient standby, "do as I say, not as I do" rhetoric.
I want my children to see what a well behaved child actually looks like for Heaven's sake. They already know how to run around a table in circles screaming at the top of their lungs, and aside from the occasional, "Mam, I'm sorry but you and your children really need to leave and not come back" lectures from uptight Maître Dees, I can now confidently take my children most places without fear of embarrassment … at least that was true until last week.
As a back story to the event that has now banned my family from one of the better restaurants in town, I must admit that most of what took place was entirely my fault.
It seems that in my life, whenever I take a step forward and really get excited about how things are turning out, something out of my control comes along and knocks me back a few spaces on the game board of life and I verbalize the set backs in a not so discreet fashion for all the world, or at least the children and neighbors, to hear.
The kids seem to know when one of these events has been particularly devastating because we become much more consistent in our visits to church. I tell them mommy needs all the help she can get right now.
Sounds terrible I know, and one of my bright little darlings drove home that point by recently informing me that if God's biggest desire is to hear from us, and if the only time I seem to want to talk to Him is when things go bad, well then doesn't it just make since that He would keep allowing bad things to happen to us?
Brains in children are completely over-rated in my opinion, but I'm afraid I must admit there is probably a lot of truth in what she said. It's just that I'm supposed to be smarter than a fifth grader, I mean I did just use that clever connection to the television show, didn't I?
Anyway, my children often come to some of the most profound conclusions about life and I will, and often do, take credit for their brilliance. My daughters seem to come to these insightful conclusions more often than my son does, but I have always attributed that to him being male or having acquired a broken gene or two from his father.
Not that he doesn't try. He has put two and two together and come up with four more often than not, but when he gets the math wrong, man can he put me in some tight situations.
Fast forward and we now find ourselves in one of the finer dining establishments the area has to offer.
The children are all spit and polished and on their best behavior. I can see the look of approval on patrons faces as my children sit quietly, hands folded in their precious little laps. Yes, there are always those annoying women who like to look down their uptight noses at the glaringly absent male head of household and shake their head in disgust, but I remain unfazed and smile and give a sexy wink to one of their husbands.
Before we had left for the restaurant, I had reminded the children that times were tight and that we needed to order something less expensive than we normally would. This immediately sent up red flags in their busy little minds because "normal" had always meant sharing entrees and a very slim chance of dessert.
My son, bless his heart, made a decision to help out his financially depleted mother any way that he could. I thought that meant ordering just soup for dinner, but he had something more sinister in mind.
One of my little tests, at least since my daughter became old enough to keep any eye on everyone, was to excuse myself for a moment during dinner to use the restroom. I would find a place where I could observe their behavior without being seen and watch them to make sure they remained well behaved and the envy of mothers everywhere.
By the time I had found a strategic spot from whence to spy, my son had managed to flag down the waiter and was pointing at his bowl of soup; I nearly fainted of course. My children are not allowed to talk to strangers and they are strictly forbidden to speak to Godly waiters, of which there are many populating fine dining haunts the world over.
I could see it wasn't going well, and by the time I got back to the table, management had been summoned. I had no idea what my son might have done but it sure looked as though it was me that would end up paying for it.
The snobbish waiter used a few ten dollar words I had trouble attaching a definition to in voicing his displeasure while the chef just clicked his heals and spun off towards the kitchen. My confusion quickly cleared up when I looked at my son's bowl of soup and I imagine from the title of this story you can already guess what might have been in there.
If only that had been the case. From what I quickly pieced together, It seems my son had decided to bring to the restaurant his little bottle of flies that we get from the pet store to feed his lizard, (it's a guy thing the ex tells me). Anyway, he had seen someone on television put a fly in their soup and not have to pay for it so his rusty little wheels got to spinning.
He decides that instead of just getting a free bowl of soup, he's going to get the entire meal on the house. He dumps at least a dozen flies in his soup, mixes it up real good, and then flags down the waiter and begins to make quite a scene.
I'm not sure even one fly would have worked in this upscale establishment, much less twelve. I received a humiliating lecture from the restaurant staff on proper child rearing, quite to the delight of the ugly woman whose husband I had winked at earlier, and we were sent on our way; after paying the tab and leaving a generous tip, of course.
My son really thought he was in for it, but when we got home, much to the disappointment of his sisters, I gave him a big hug and kiss. I told him how thoughtful he had been and how wonderful he had made me feel. Yes, he made a bad decision but he did it for all the right reasons.
We talked about it for a while and his sisters eventually let go of their disappointment that a just punishment would not be forth coming. He apologized for embarrassing me and promised he would never try and use deceit to get something for free ever again.
I think he learned an even more valuable lesson than table manners that night, and so have I. Times might be tough and bad things may happen to set you back, but if you have the strength of your family behind you, you can and will get through it.
I hate to think what a lot of other parents would have taken from this but I suppose I already know. I see them yelling and spanking their children in public all the time for nothing more than just being curious about the world and doing something they have been told not to do or touching something they have been told not to touch. What lesson does a child really learn at the hand of an angry adult? Take a look at the world and you be the judge.
For more from the mind of Myla, please go to http://MylaMadson.com
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