Sometimes I like to imagine how different the world would be if I ran things.
Not all the things, of course, but definitely some of them; for instance, restaurant bathrooms.
(Stay with me here, I haven’t been sleeping well at all lately, and I’ve been giving this a LOT of incoherent, middle-of-the-night thought.)
Restaurant bathrooms need to be re-imagined. I mean look at all of us for God’s sake—parents—so easily impressed by some rickety wall mounted changing table. So willing to think a place is child friendly’ just because, as an after thought, they stuck a dirty piece of plastic on the wall with a seat belt on it so our children wouldn’t plop off.
I have three children. Can you imagine how many times I have attended to a child’s functions, diaper or no diaper? Do you have any idea how much time I spend in the bathroom of any given restaurant over the course of one meal?
Every child has to go at least once, probably twice, and always on a slightly different timetable. Oh sure, you can try to make them all go at the same time, You Incorrigible Dreamer, but whatever. I don’t know *throws up hands*. Maybe yours do. Maybe you run your household like Captain Von Trapp with his terse whistle blows and your children go on command, but mine don’t. They will come to the bathroom with the other child, but that is only to think about what they’d like to try doing fifteen minutes later when they come back for round two.
This is why I need the following changes to be instituted at all of my favorite restaurants (that I take my children to), effective immediately.
In fact, you know what, I’ll start my own restaurant instead, and I’ll call it “Truly Child Friendly Bathrooms” and no one will even care what we serve and we’ll be packed around the clock with desperate parents.
*All the stalls will be huge. So huge, in fact, that each stall will comfortably hold a (scrubbable) recliner for exhausted parents. There is almost nothing more dispiriting than taking your child for a quick pee and hearing the words “Nope, I think it’s a poo. I’ll try,” as you feel the heat dissipate from the mouthwatering omelette you were just served upstairs. Sometimes I just need to sit and stare into space, okay?
*Each bathroom will have a well paid attendant. Oh yes I said it, well paid. That is a real job that needs to happen, and those people should be compensated for their work and not have to rely on people’s grudging tips. Living wage. Clean fresh toilets. Boom.
*the bathroom will not be down a neck breaking set of stairs to the Ninth Circle of Hell. They should be upstairs. Maybe they should be half the restaurant! I’ll charge double the price for the food, and I’ll stick with the name I have chosen and parents will still crawl on their knees over carpet tacks to get a table.
*Also, can I bring my food with me? Can there be tables in there? Now I’m getting crazy. Can we just have a restaurant with HUGE stalls, comfortable seating, a happy attendant, and a table to eat my food at? I need it near a crackable window, with bright sunshine. I think what I’m saying is that I need toilets in the actual restaurant itself so that I can finally enjoy one blessed hot meal.
I think I just invented a toilet restaurant where only parents of young children will ever go.
Actually, I think I’m just describing my own apartment.
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