Christmas came early this year… in the form of a positively torturous family dinner. My Mum has decided to go celebrate Christmas with her sister in Western Australia this year and I am not sure whose idea it was to have a family thing on in November, but who ever’s fucked-up little pea brain came up with the plan for us all go out to a swanky restaurant for dinner… well I’d sure like to smack them upside the head.
The restaurant is down in Brunswick heads, called the Fat Belly Kat… lovely ambiance / personable host / delicious, fantastic, gorgeous food! But with five small children in tow? Holy snapping duckshit Batman…. never again! We arrived good and early so hopefully the rug rats would be in a good mood – not too tired etc, and the kitchen was great in getting them all squared away early… but (and this is a big BUT) our meals were nearly two hours in coming. We were snacking on breads, mezes and all sorts of yummies, but were were there for well over two hours, and the kids were running amok.
The older kids were mostly okay… but Big Sal’s are only 3 and 18 months, and they just can’t be expected to sit still that long. It was a dis-ars-ta from the minute we walked into the place. Couldn’t keep them in their seats, no one happy with their little presents, and for a finale….. when FishyBob realized that everyone else’s dessert looked much yummier than hers…. well I swear, I have never in my life heard such a godawful noise emit from something so small – unless you count that time we stuffed the rabbit in a bucket of water and it screamed in a rather alarming manner. She kicked and screamed like you would not believe… they must have heard her howling all the way up the Tweed Valley, she was a bee’s dick off apoplexy and our fellow diners must have thought we were performing some sort of medieval toe crushing torture on her under the table. Would not have surprised me one little bit had the police turned up with claims of child abuse charges, or at the very least…. disturbance of the peace or some such shit.
By the end of the evening, some of us were huddled in our seats rocking, muttering ‘never again… never again…’ and I for one intend to do my damnedest to make sure we never do dinner with the rug rats again….. oh but do try the Fat Belly Kat if you happen to be down Byron way… just don’t sit next to any tables with highchairs.
.