We're THAT family

We were up before 7 am this morning, not really by choice but because Noah was up. So we decided to try out a new diner in town before we leave Davis. It was an experience. The food was fine; WE were in fine form. It has happened. We are officially that family--you know the one with the loud kid who makes a colossal mess? The family you half stare at, half pray for (and half roll your eyes at while muttering under your breath: "They should teach their kid how to behave or just stay home."). Minutes after we sat down (in the back of the restaurant's 2nd room--the one they reserve for overflow and families with small children), we asked for them to adjust the temperature because we were freezing. Then Noah began his dog and pony show. The floor was soon covered with crayons and tiny bits of paper pulled from the plastic straws. Then the straws followed, bent and now contaminated by the floor. Next came the jelly. We were trying to preserve the half and half for our coffee, so Noah got to open and eat some smuckers jelly, which ended up on his lap before we could change our minds. We didn't really think he would be able to open the little container, but we were wrong. Breakfast arrived and the jelly was joined by apple sauce, milk, syrup, and sausage. Noah was happy as a clam, making pig faces at us, laughing at himself, talking in another language about the bear decor and the fine weather we were having. I wouldn't have cared that he was making such a mess except that TWICE he pulled the plastic bendy straw out of his milk cup and flung milk all over me. The first time was a shock, the second time less funny. On top of all this, his nose was running, he had kicked off a shoe, he was practicing eating with a knife, he was desperate to stir my coffee for me, and he was DONE sitting in this high chair. This whole time, Abby was contentedly doing a word puzzle and coloring the kid menu with expert precision and flare. She ate without making even a tiny mess, and she used her best manners as she sipped her milk and asked politely for the syrup. Is it possible these two children are related?

Thankfully, we were done eating. I left the waitress a 30% tip. We drove home and upon our arrival, I noticed that my hair was stiff from dried milk. It's a quarter to 10 now and I am thinking of offering Abby the car if she will watch her brother so I can take a nap.

The next time you see a family with a rambunctious child, have pity. If you are rich, buy their breakfast for them. If not, and if you can't help but roll your eyes, just don't do it till they leave; it isn't easy containing wildness the likes of our son.