Tea time

I’m convinced if you really want to test your parenting skills, take a toddler on the verge of the “terrible twos” to a restaurant. Then tell them they have to sit still.

I used to be amazed at how good Ladybug was when we’d eat out. Sure, she’d do the typical toddler acts – like empty her entire bowl of Cheerios on the floor – but as far as behavior went, she was impeccable. So when boredom struck earlier this week, my husband and I didn’t think twice about going to Copeland’s for a late lunch.

It started as a day to remember when the waitress arrived at our table with a booster seat instead of the usual high chair. It was the first time Ladybug would sit side by side with us at the table. And, after that meal, it looks like it will be the last for a long, long time.

Usually we prep Ladybug before she experiences something new. We tell her what to expect and talk her through it as she tries it. But for some reason, I just plopped her in the booster seat, told her to sit up straight, and continued to talk to my husband. I didn’t think anymore of it as our meal arrived since Ladybug was quiet as she absorbed the surroundings.

And then out of nowhere, a foot flew above my plate and into my iced tea. The glass fell over and tea poured into my lap, where Ladybug had thrown herself. We were both dripping wet and not getting any dryer as the ice started to melt and soak through my underwear. Then Ladybug began screaming and slipped down my legs and under the table in an effort to escape into the aisle. All the while, my husband was lifting and shifting plates so the waiter, who was maneuvering around me and Ladybug like some warped game of Restaurant Twister, could sop up the mess.

I took Ladybug outside, sat her on a bench and got down to look her in the eyes. I told her I didn’t like her behavior and that if she wanted to be treated like a big girl, she would have to act like one. That meant sitting in her booster seat, not throwing food and not screaming. I asked her if she wanted to try again.

“K,” she said.

So we went back in. No sooner had we sat down that Ladybug started her show again. I carted Ladybug off to the car while my husband got to-go boxes and paid the bill. While we waited, Ladybug continued her tantrum, grabbing whatever she could reach from her car seat and throwing it. I took off my sunglasses and turned around from the front seat.

“That is not acceptable behavior,” I said sternly. “We still have one more place to go, and we will not accept that behavior. When we get to the store, you will hold Mommy and Daddy’s hands and you will not scream. If you do, we will leave.”

Humbled, Ladybug stopped her wailing and sat still.

“That was really good,” my husband told me later that night.

I don’t know about that. I’m sure there’s some “parenting expert” somewhere who would cringe at how we handled her behavior. But it worked. Ladybug held my hand as we walked around the store. She pointed at things that interested her but did not try to touch them. I let her lead the way through the aisles and thanked her for her good behavior when we were done.

I was proud of her … and a little bit proud of us too.

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