Ken and I have had a Sunday morning ritual for the last five years. We have breakfast at this greasy spoon diner that is a five minute walk from our place. Both boys have been going to the diner since they were only days old, and it has proven to be a great training ground for them (and us) as far as eating out goes. Not that we eat out much at all, but at least the boys have learned (to some degree) that their neanderthal behaviour at home when it comes to eating should be toned down a bit for when we are eating around the public that is not family.
Each week we see the same people at the diner - which is good because they know the boys well, and they couldn't care less when they find foreign bits of kid sized pancake bits sailing across the room. We rarely see other kids at the diner, so I think the boys are treated extra special by other people in the joint (especially the dog walking ladies who eat club sandwiches at 8 am after thier Sunday morning stroll). Funny, we don't know anyone's names, but I can tell you where they all sit and what most have for breakfast. If that old crusty guy in the corner ever dies, the only way I will know it is him is if his death notice says he enjoyed extra strong coffee, and dry toast with butter on the side. Hell, I think it would kill him if he ever smiled. He is the odd one in the bunch - for the most part everyone is really friendly.
Today, my three year old was an angel at the diner (yeah, I know what I wrote in my last post, I bet he was great today ON PURPOSE just to PROVE ME WRONG). He just about got a standing ovation from the regulars when the waiter brought his breakfast - He stood up and said "Thank you Bill" then sat down to eat. Just loud enough for everyone to hear and with ZERO prompting from the parental units. I just wish I would have caught it on video...just a reminder to myself that the little monkey is great at pulling one out of the hat just when mommy is about to lose her sanity.