iPads Save Lives

Dear Lady with a horrible case of RBF, mean muggin' me for giving my toddler a phone at dinner:

You have either forgotten what it is like to have a screaming, plate-throwing toddler in a restaurant, or you haven't ever had the pleasure. Either way, you need to get in the know. Let's get real.

Every now and again, me and the 'ol ball and chain get a case of amnesia and decide to take our littlest offspring out to a nice meal at somewhere other than a Mexican patio or the local Fudruckers (home of the "World's Greatest {and most expensive} Hamburgers"). We are quickly reminded, after the fight to get her in the highchair, that this doesn't usually go smoothly. It starts with a thrashing movement, similar to that of a shark on a hook, as she fights to stay out of that damned seat. "I wanna sit in yap (lap)!!!!!" Translation: How am I supposed to reach all of the shit on the table to throw at people if I am confined to this thing?!?

Then the silverware comes (if not already on the table) and it looks like an episode of Game of Thrones, as the forks and knives fly by, inches from our faces. The reach on a child of her stature is remarkable. That's why part of all server training should be: DO NOT put the margarita within two feet of the child. Not only is mama going to be pissed when the kid takes a bath in it (and let's be honest here... the biggest problem is that the margarita is on the floor), but the cop that pulls us over later may not take too kindly to the toddler in the backseat smelling like she just left cinco at Coco Bongos. (Relax, friends. It is 9 pm and we had a tail light out. Salt n Pepper Fox was my DD.)

Out comes the kids' food first, which I never think is a good idea, because then the kid gets super bored and we are just getting our dinner by that point. Toddlers have the attention span of a cocker spaniel. You can only show a child the straw wrapper worm thing so many times before she looks at you like "get some new tricks, dumbass". We are headed down to fit pitching town with every passing second. By the time our entree hits the table, I'm usually ready to take it to-go and try again when she's twelve.

So the next time you consider giving a parent a face like someone just broke wind IN your nose for giving their child a phone or tablet at dinner, think twice, Sally. You. Don't. Know. If the worst thing my tiny terrorist is doing at the table is quietly watching "Farney", then consider yourself lucky, bitch, because Winter is Coming.