Tonite, we dined out, just me and the kids. Something extraordinarily strange happened: the family at the table next to us was more embarrassing and ludicrous than us. Kyler and Mae had a loud discussion about flatulence (their favorite subject) and I immediately pre-threatened them for even thinking about passing any sort of gas at a restaurant. Just then, the kid at the next table belched loudly. Of course, my kids were rolling and snorting at this and as much as I think I should be embarrassed every time I take them anywhere, I can't because I'm sidetracked by the same constant thought: I deserve this. I can't even count the number of times that I intentionally embarrassed my mother in public ("No, Mom! Don't hit me again!"...in the middle of the grocery store...every time we went there). And they're not really that bad. Usually, their conversations are quite entertaining. Or maybe I'm just immature. Either way, we're having fun and I suppose that's what really matters. And when the next-table'd kid belched, I just had to sneak a peak at his mother because it always interests me to see how other parents act when their kids aren't behaving properly. And this mom, she was laughing. I sort of wanted to hug her.
After eating waaaay too much, we headed to the grocery store. We got everything on the list. Well, ALMOST everything. My grocery list has been compromised and I have only two suspects.
Very nice, children. And well-played. Except next time (because I know there will be a next time), if you want to blame it on "Dad", try not to burst out into laughter as soon as I pick up the grocery list. Also, "Dad" can't write nearly that legibly and we all know it.
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