This food is TOO hot!

Jeff had to work late again yesterday, so I decided to take Biscuit out for dinner.

We went to a local Chinese restaurant where they serve the food family style. Most of the Chinese restaurants around here are really casual with takeout and delivery. But the place Biscuit and I went to is a little nicer.

Let me interrupt myself for a minute and get up on my soapbox ...

I've been reading lately about a movement to ban children from certain restaurants, movie theaters, stores and even some grocery stores. I understand that people get frustrated when kids are allowed to run through department stores, crawl under clothes racks and peek under dressing room doors, or when kids scream in restaurants and throw food on the floor. I get frustrated with that stuff, too. But guess what, that's more the parents' fault than the kids. The kids don't know any better. It's the parents job to teach them how to behave. And clearly that's not happening enough.

But my question is, how can children be taught those things if they're not allowed to be in those places? If you go to a movie and are disturbed by someone with a cell phone, you report him or her to the theater personnel, and they'll be asked to leave. Why not try that approach? Give the kids and parents the benefit of the doubt, and then take action only if you need to.

Jeff and I have worked really hard to teach Biscuit how to act in public and eat in restaurants. I took Biscuit to see the Winnie the Pooh movie last week, and he acted way better than the two teen girls who kept giggling out loud and running in and out of the theater. I don't usually get too up-in-arms about issues, but I tell you what, I might have something not nice to say to the first place that tells me I can't come in with my well-behaved son.

Back to the story ...

The server Biscuit and I had last night looked so young. And she was really awkward with Biscuit. I'm betting she hasn't been around too many kids for an extended period of time. Biscuit tried to talk to her, but every time he said something to her, she just looked at me. It was almost like he was speaking French, and I was his translator.

Anyway, she asked what we'd like to drink. I told her what I wanted, then Biscuit and I looked at each other, and I nodded my head at him. That's the go-ahead signal for him to order what he wants. "I want chocolate milk," he said. The server looked at me again, and I told her chocolate milk was fine.

When she brought his chocolate milk, he said thank you without my prompting him, then I ordered our food.

She brought our food out on a big platter. When she set it down, you could see the steam rising from it. It was really hot. Biscuit looked at the platter, then at me, then at the server.

"You have to blow this. This too hot," Biscuit said. "I can't eat this. It's too hot. Can you blow this for me?"

The server looked truly panicked. She stared at him for a second then looked at me and opened her mouth like she wanted to say something but couldn't think of anything.

"We can blow it ourselves, okay?" I said to Biscuit.

"Okay," Biscuit said, then he looked at the server. "We blow it ourselves."