The Joys of Fatherhood – the diner edition

J. has never really handled eating out well. To be sure, there have been occasions where the little man behaved every bit the angel that he so deceptively resembles. Those occasions, however, are painfully rare. More important though, those exceptional performances are the bait with which he traps us into attempting to feed a two year old in public. This morning was my first solo mission; J. and I went to the diner down the street. It was awesome. God bless him, J. was the Baryshnikov of good behavior. He delivered a bravura piece and he did it in a tough room.

Let me first say that a bad waiter can ruin a marvelous feast and a good one can make even thee most mundane meal thoroughly enjoyable. Service is important and made that much more so when accompanied by a ticking time bomb. Our server was awful. The food took forever. When it finally did arrive, he conveniently forgot the silverware. The genius then forgot that I asked him for silverware. All the while, J. sat there, quietly, staring at a hot plate of syrup-covered “cake-cakes”, barely budging. People, that right there is amazing. I finally retrieved forks and knives from our incompetent waiter and then the fun really began. He ate pancakes and eggs. Incredibly, the differential between that which was eaten and that which was thrown fell lopsidedly on the eaten side of the equation. I ate, drank coffee and read the paper in peace, as did the rest of the patrons. When J. finished, he politely told me so and allowed me to wash his hands. He even thanked our hapless waiter on the way out.

I have eaten some really wonderful meals in my thirty-three odd years but the bacon and egg sandwich (on wheat with tomatoes) was one of best I have ever had. And it wasn’t the food or the service that made it so good; it was the company.