Drinks on Me

My husband was out of town all weekend. In an attempt to fill the waking hours with something other than animated movies, I took my kids to the pawn shop, Chuck-E-Cheese, and the garden center at Home Depot.

"You can sit on every riding lawnmower except that one," I said, pointing to the $7,000 convertible.

By 3pm on Saturday, I was making paper chains out of construction paper.

"What is that?" my son asked.

"The number of hours until you go to bed," I replied, ripping off a link.

"Let's take our kids out to dinner," I suggested to my friends Becky and James. "You pick the place."

It went without saying that said restaurant must be equipped with booster chairs, plastic tablecloths, and waitresses who look the other way.

An hour later, I found myself at a fifties diner. Two minutes after that, I was forced to confiscate the salt and pepper shakers from the table next to mine. Thirty seconds later, I was back for the packets of Splenda.

The hyenas lost interest in the sugar substitute when their drinks arrived...in mason jars.

"AHHHHH!" yelled Kellen, barely able to contain himself. The simple pleasures in life.

"Be careful with that cup," I warned.

By the time that the food was brought out, Kellen and Camber had spilled their drinks. After round two, the waitress left me with a roll of paper towels.

"It's your turn Cortlen," I said flatly. The last one standing giggled and covered his hands with his mouth.

"I'm joking," I said.

Trials are not without tender mercies.

My son waited until after I had consumed almost half of my meal before knocking eight ounces of soda into his lap.

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Any awesome restaurant stories out there?