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At a time where airlines are charging more for child-free seats and people are routinely enraged about out-of-control kids in public, one restaurant is rewarding parents when their pint-size diners show good manners.
http://shine.yahoo.com/parenting/res...192500505.html |
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The advice offered at the end of the OP article are very good: make sure kids are well-rested, not overly hungry, and that they get adult attention during dinner. When DD was little, she could go from not-hungry to ravenous and cranky in a very short time frame (mainly because she didn't know her body well enough to recognize the signs of hunger until it was extreme). So in addition to not making her wait too long between meals, I learned to ask for crackers or bread as soon as we sat down.
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That last bit strikes a nerve with me; as far back as I can remember, perhaps five or six, a relative of mine would take me places (usually to a "fancy" restaurant with their friends/extended family) where everyone would say hello to me - and then promptly ignore me the rest of the night. I couldn't join the conversation because I didn't know what was going on, so I was expected to sit there, alone, with nothing to do, for hours. I was "too old" for crayons, if they even had them, and "too grown up" to order off the kids' menu (again, if such even existed), which means there was often nothing I wanted. Needless to say, I got scolded an aweful lot for being "cranky" and "disruptive" and "acting like a baby". I am, in theory, an adult now, but it still pings that raw nerve when I see my buddy's doing the same thing, and make sure to talk to/color with/acknowledge their kids when we're out to dinner, if everyone seems cool with it.
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That would have been fine with me, and I can understand why you did it.
My pet peeve as a waitress was people who thought it was great to put a kid in highchair with a metal tray, give it a metal spoon or fork, and let it bang away to amuse itself. When DD was a baby, I'd give her a cloth napkin (you'd be surprised how entertaining that can be to, say, an 8MO), and when she was a little older, I'd bring along one of those soft vinyl bath books (with no squeaker in it). |
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