Saturday, July 09, 2005

Demon spawn

Oh God. We just took Nutmeg to a nice restaurant because we were running late and didn't have time to take her across town to be babysat by Bert before our reservation. And I have to tell you that toddlerhood has begun. You've seen them, these toddlers and their ragged parents. You've seen them walking up and down the aisles of airplanes, you've seen the toddlers climbing out of high chairs and knocking over water pitchers, and you've asked yourselves, why can't these parents control their monstrous spawn, or at least keep them at home?
We now have a toddler. And the public at large will thank me if I never bring her to a nice restaurant again until we celebrate her high school graduation. She sat in the high chair on and off, but then she would throw back her head at unexpected moments and howl, "no, no, no!" This meant that someone needed to get up and take her into the hallway leading to the bathrooms or outside so she could walk or crawl around. The bathroom held many amusements, such as candles she could try to blow out, and flowers she could dab at with her finger while saying, "nice, nice" (as in, "touch it nicely, Nutmeg"). And when the jazz band started playing, that was good for a few minutes of not screaming. But, with God as my witness, if I want to spend so much time chasing my kid around and blushing in embarrassment that I expend more calories than I consumed during the meal, I can do that at home. For a lot cheaper.
And in case you haven't figured this out, she's better.

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