It could have been haircuts, or shopping for shoes.
It may have been donuts or hullabaloos.
Whatever it was, we were hungry and late.
That’s why we did it, we gambled with fate.
Instead of fast food or driving fast home,
we sat in a booth, the menu a tome.
A server brought crayons
and papers with say-ons
like $8.95 for Captain Filet and his Mignons…
We ordered our meal, shared a basket of bread,
the din we could feel like an echo of dread.
The boys made jokes about bottoms and farts,
causing their mother and I to raise up in starts.
“Sit down, be still, be quiet,” we said,
but all they could hear was “Have some more bread.”
The food was served and placed on the table,
they hemmed and they hawed like two beasts in a stable.
“What is this?” they asked, and “I don’t like that!”
It was time to eat and they chat! Chat! Chat! CHAT!
Two bites later and the restroom they needed,
I stood by a stall, tired and pleaded,
“Why must this happen every time we eat out?”
I pushed and I pressed until they both pout.
Cold food was ignored and they wanted for bed,
despite such time being hours ahead.
We finally gave up, put our food in small boxes.
The bill was much bigger and blew off our soxes.
One hundred dollars (with taxes and tip).
I looked at my glass, only minus one sip.
“Get up,” I said, “and get in the car.”
“We are tired,” they cried. “The car is too far.”
The ride was filled with message and speeches
about manners and couth, like asking not reaches,
and through it all I offered this threat,
we’ll never eat out before childhood’s set.
They pretended to care or they honestly did not,
and we continued to share all the things that they should not.
We got home too late, over tired and hurt.
The youngest one said, “But wait!” and “Dessert!”
For one hundred dollars we had picked our own battle,
a frustrating night of food waste and loud prattle.
The boys now asleep, the wine bottle pouring,
we toasted the night, and then drifted to snoring…
This is not a caution or what you should do,
but it is as it happened, and all of it true.
I hope that these words and examples stand stout,
for I’d love to enjoy the next time we dine out.
Read more from Whit Honea at his site Honea Express and the popular group blog DadCentric. You can follow Whit on the Twitter or Pinterest (his opinions are his own and do not reflect those of Babble or most rational people).