(This is the Tantrum, in which Dadwagon’s writers debate one question over the course of a week. For previous Tantrums, click here.)
Given my sordid past—dragging Sasha around Italy and San Francisco, carrying her to filthy, seedy bars full of tattooed, puking people—you might think I’d be in favor of kids in restaurants. It only makes sense, right? Idiot yuppie-hipster dad just loooves to show off his pwecious cwotchfwuit in inappropriate settings.
The hell with that. Although Sasha was a perfect doll in restaurants at the age of 6 weeks—snuggled in her carrier, she didn’t want much—lately she’s a challenge. Now she wants to run, not snuggle; to play, not eat. On the increasingly rare occasions when we do go out for a meal, it’ll be lunch or brunch, somewhere family-friendly (highchairs, plenty of room), and we’ll bring enough books and toys to keep her occupied, and we’ll get in and out as fast as possible.
But somewhere nice? Are you kidding? Back when Sasha was around 4 or 5 months old, I brought her, on my own, to brunch with a friend visiting from Korea. (Hi, Dan!) The place: Char No. 4, a pretty decent Southern-ish restaurant in my neighborhood. At first, she was great, sitting patiently in the seat of her stroller, which I’d detached and placed next to me. But, inevitably, she began to cry, and nothing would console her—not milk, not nothing. By the time my food arrived, I was ready to flee—only I couldn’t properly unfold the base of the stroller. I was about ready to fling the whole thing across the restaurant when Dan stepped in, picked Sasha up and walked her around. Instantly, she calmed down. Oh, okay. I scarfed my meal, and we were outta there. Never again, I swore.
So, no. No. No. No. Somewhere nice? Really nice? Like, $400-per-person nice? Sasha’s not worth it—hell, I’m not worth it. (As an aside: I’m not sure this is how rich people think. Follow this link to see what I mean.) And even if I were to bring her to such a place—perhaps as a result of a traumatic brain injury—should the restaurant offer a kids’ menu? Would I ask for an adults’ menu at Chuck E. Cheese’s?
But you know what? Fuck restaurants in general. I’m tired of them. Very rarely do I eat anything at a restaurant that I can’t cook myself, better and cheaper. The whole range of upper-mid-level restaurants is a complete waste of time and money—gastronomical ambition tempered (and therefore neutered) by the need to serve a mass audience. If you’re making something that’s truly beyond my abilities—Taiwanese thin noodles, for example, or some exotic truffle-foam sous vide thing—I’m up for it. But if all you’re doing at your hip $29-entrée spot is roasting free-range hens or braising veal shanks, then thank you very much, but I can do that at home—and serve the leftovers to Sasha.
The largest problem of taking our 19mo old out to eat somewhere nice is other people being pissed and giving us the stink eye. I get it our crying baby is prob. killing the romantic vibe that’s going to get you laid tonight by your hot date. This was a huge problem when we were traveling in Europe where it appears that everywhere is non-kid friendly at least in the American sense of the word. Typically we scope the place out. For example if there are candles and wine glasses on the table: NO fucking way. If there are other children there we are more apt to go in. Yes we do look for that stash of high chairs in the back. But like you said kid friendly places well just serve mediocre food I can cook at home for a lot less than $50. And of course I don’t have to worry about my kid being herself and offending single yuppies on their date night.
Not sure I really understand this issue. Then again I’m two months away from actually having a baby to take to a restaurant.
I mean, my wife and I like “nice dining experiences” but right now I can’t fathom wanting, much less needing, to take Baby Grrl!™ someplace she’s not ready for or someplace she wouldn’t be welcome should she act her age. I’m certain we can find places to eat where everyone is reasonably happy about the whole situation.
I guess it’s worth noting that I’m also not bothered by babies cries – we’ve all done it – and have always been sympathetic to the parents of those crying babies when they’re getting the stink eyes.
I’d have to say we got pretty lucky. Our daughter (about a month older than Sasha I think) loves to go to restaurants. She never gets loud, screams or cries. She’s truly fascinated by the experience, likes to say hi to everyone who walks by and loves waiters. I take her to a restaurant at least once or twice a week.
Now as far as “nice” restaurants are concerned, well not really. On any occasion we might go to a very pricey place it will be a date between my wife and me, leaving Sophia with a babysitter.
But we’ve got a couple of really great restaurants we like (one Indian, one upscale vegetarian with entrees in the $15-$18 range) and have no problem taking our kid. People that work at them even know our daughter by name.
But even more I like to take her to pubs for lunch during the week. She loves those.