This evening as a family, we tried out a new local restaurant. It turned out to be a quaint inexpensive pasta place with a good family atmosphere. There were other families there so we weren’t as concerned about bringing our loud three year old. Tristan has many different moods and tonight’s centered on being loud and messy.
My wife, Andrea, and I had a nice conversation and meal while Tristan bathed in his kid’s plate of Spaghetti and Meatballs. Not one of the easiest things in the world to eat, spaghetti gives even adults the occasional splatter on the shirt. Being three and under the tutelage of Oscar the Grouch required making sure that nearly equal quantities ended up in the mouth as on his shirt and the floor.
Andrea and I flipped a coin to see who cleaned up the table and who power washed the meal off Tristan. I think we both lost. While she cleaned up the table as best she could I headed off to the bathroom. Pulling his shirt off and running it under the water-helped get a majority of the mess off. At least until the sink was plugged up from the noodles and tomato bits. Reaching in through the bloody colored water I scooped handfuls of food chunks out of the drain.
Both of us walked back out soaking as Andrea was giving the waiter an extra tip for helping to clean up the scene of the crime.
Before I had kids, my thinking was much different than it is now. Like my tolerance for kids and their poor behavior. On this occasion, I knew Tristan wasn’t really being bad, just three. Three years, nine months and six days ago I would never have been able to handle sitting through such chaos. Odd how one little kid can change a persons perspective so drastically.
