Food for thought

It seems that for the past few months, trips to restaurants have been really hit or miss for us. Sometimes it's Biscuit, sometimes it's not. We've just had very odd luck with service, food and restaurant behavior.

Luckily, the issues have come one at a time.

During our lunch hour one day, Jeff and I went to a hamburger place where we sat and stared at (and smelled!) the previous customers' food for about 15 minutes. The server passed us several times and even cleared a table then took orders from a table of customers who came in after us. Running out of time and patience, Jeff and I got up to leave. Then the server came over and was all apologetic. Too late, sister. We went next door and got tasty food, quite quickly.

On another outing, we went to a place that usually has great food. Jeff's parents were here, and we took them to a steakhouse that we go to several times a year. I was excited about going but was really disappointed by our food. It was okay, but it came nowhere near meeting the standards we usually hold for that particular place. Plus, they got my order wrong, which certainly didn't help the situation.

Despite these experiences, I still enjoy eating out and thought it would be a good option for tonight.

We had a big-deal sporting event in town this past week, so Jeff had to work seven 12-hour days in a row. Today (Day 8) was a regular 8-hour day, so I thought it would be nice for the three of us to have dinner out together. I picked somewhere I thought was family-friendly and told Jeff to meet us there after I picked up Biscuit from day care.

Biscuit and I got to the restaurant before Jeff, and I asked for a table for two and a high chair. I'm not sure why, but when the hostess rounded the corner with the high chair, Biscuit went nuts with excitement, "HIGH CHAIR, HIGH CHAIR, HIGH CHAIR!!!!" It was like he had never seen one before.

Our server came over, and the first thing he did was lay down a couple of packs of crackers in front of Biscuit. Score! Then he asked what we'd like to drink. I told him I'd like tea, I got water for Jeff and before I could tell him what Biscuit wanted, the server squatted down to Biscuit's level and said, "What would you like to drink?" "TEA!!!" Biscuit yelled to him. The server looked at me, I guess for my approval, and I gave him the nod that it was okay.

The server brought our drinks back and asked if I wanted to wait before I ordered our food. I told him yes, but Biscuit piped up and said, "I need fench fies, pease." The server and I laughed, and I said, "I'm sorry, but I guess he knows what he wants."

Jeff arrived and was looking at the menu when the server walked up and gave Biscuit a plate with a handful of fries on it. It was so nice. I thanked him, and he said he has four grandchildren who call him Papa and get whatever they want from him, too.

Biscuit gave him the sweetest smile and said, "Thank you, Papa," and the server seemed to get a kick out of that.

The food was good, and the server kept checking on us. It was just a nice restaurant experience.

There was an older woman sitting alone at the table behind us. As she got up to leave, she turned around and looked at Biscuit. Biscuit had been talking up a storm during dinner, describing what he was eating, making car noises with his little race cars, and just generally talking Jeff's ear off since he hasn't seen him this week. At one point, Biscuit wanted to dip a french fry into the blue cheese dressing Jeff had for his salad. "Too spicy, Dad," Biscuit said.

Anyway, the woman said, "I just wanted to see who was doing all that talking during my dinner." At first, I couldn't tell if she was serious or joking. Then she smiled. "I heard him telling the server exactly what he wanted. I like a man who knows what he wants."

"You picked the right man, then," I said to her.

"And how could he resist a beautiful, young woman like me?" she said, laughing.

My dinner was good, but I wanted something sweet afterward, so we went through a close-by drive-through and got a little chocolate milkshake. I let Jeff taste it, then Biscuit wanted a taste. He took a sip and said, "Mmmm, Mama. Good."

We got home, went inside and got our coats and shoes off. Then I felt a little tug on my pants leg. "Mama. Mama," Biscuit said.

"What, Baby?" I asked.

"I need more ice cream tea," Biscuit said.

At first I didn't understand. "What in the world is ice cream tea?" I was thinking.

Then it occurred to me that when he sees me with a takeout cup, it usually has tea in it. So he put the two together and came up with "ice cream tea." So to reward his creative thinking, I did indeed give him another sip of my ice cream tea.

Maybe our run of bad restaurant experiences has come to an end. I hope so.