Photos from dinner at Carrabba'sThis post is really about two things: 1) eating out in a restaurant with Kyle and Owen last night, and 2) a funny "quote of the day" by Owen...
Last night, as a little token of our gratitude for all she's done for us in the past week, we took my mother out for dinner at one of her (and our) favorite family-friendly/great-food-yet-a-chain-restaurants: Carrabba's. Like any three sane adults would be, we were somewhat (o.k., I admit it- VERY) nervous about taking our twin two year old boys to a "real" sit-down restaurant. Yes, we eat out with them quite a lot... but usually at places like Panera or Baja or McDonalds (click here to see a post I wrote in October about eating out with twin two year olds). It is hard to explain it until you've actually done it, but just trust me on this one: bringing K & O out to eat is nerve-wracking at best. Let's face it, even eating a meal with them at home (even our own home) can be nerve-wracking. Cups and silverware go flying (sometimes a genuine "accident" sometimes *not* so much!), they sing loudly, they "organize" their food in little piles all over the table, they like to joke around with each other and their other table-mates in all sorts of ways, they wiggle, they squirm, they burp a lot, they slurp, they get frustrated with spoons so they use their hands and then suddenly need to hug you tight with foodstuff all over their hands and faces and clothes (so now it is all over you too), they eat fast, they eat slow, sometimes they decide they don't want to eat at all, if you're not watching closely enough they'll try to "paint" with their yogurt or milk or soup (or whatever!), they ask constantly for ice-cream (Owen) and Fig Newtons (Kyle) and vitamins (both of 'em), they laugh wildly, they have very active imaginations ("Hey! I know! You see this bowl?! This bowl is my motorboat-- you hear this loud motorboat's motor? Hey! STOP carrots! You have a red light carrots! O.k., carrots! Light is green carrots! Go carrots! Go in my mouth now carrots! Yay carrots! Hey! You see this fork? This fork is my chainsaw! Watch me start my chainsaw motor! Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! Watch me cut my avacado with this chainsaw!") Etc., Etc., Etc. Need I say more???
Anywhoooo.........
Last night we really wanted to take my mother out to Carrabba's. We had never taken the boys there, but my mom loves their pastas (as do we), and we wanted to at least try to do something nice for her (since god knows she's done so many nice things for us in the past week).
We arrived at 6:00 and were told it would be a 30 minute wait. My mother's immediate reaction was we should leave. That really says something about my mother: she knows our boys very well. Also, given that she was at the end of a whole week with them, she was justly tired and understandably frazzled -- but not deliriously so (as Braydon and I are 24x7). She had the presence of mind to at least know that a 30 minute wait was unreasonable for our little party of five, and that we should just get out of there quickly while we still could (the boys even still had their coats on!). She actually admitted later that when she heard "thirty minute wait" she had thought "let's find a McDonalds." But Braydon and I were insistent: "No! We really want to take you out to dinner! No! We are going to wait for a table!" She looked at us like we were crazy, and then she manned her station in the waiting area with Owen on her lap.
By some miracle we got through the entire 1/2 hour long wait totally beautifully. Our boys were like poster-children for eating out with toddlers. They were quiet, calm, well-behaved. Kyle just wanted to suck his thumb and be held by me, cuddling and snuggling the entire time (surely to the envy of most women in the place, who if given the chance would probably pay good money to get that kind of affection from a beautiful young child at the end of the day! - I know I definately would if I didn't get it for free!). And Owen -- the little extravert that he is -- just hung out with MorMor and Papi and proceeded to enchant all of the other guests waiting for tables. Us three adults were thrilled and shocked! Things only continued to go wonderfully. I'll just cut to the chase here: We got our booth and two booster seats, we had a full civilized meal --drinks (chocolate milk for the under-3 crowd, sangria for the 3-and-over crowd), appetizers (the best calamari), salads (adults only - the boys wanted nothing to do with it), and entrees (just for the record: K & O loved their penne with alfredo and fresh romano) -- the boys were absolutely perfect angels, and all five of us had a delightful evening. Shocker of all shockers! We were most amazed. [Not quite inspired enough to try it again tonight, but maybe we'll take them to Carrabba's again sometime in the not-too-distant-future... which, honestly, is a lot more than any of us thought we'd be saying the day after!]
After a lovely dinner experience we were all getting up to leave. My mother and Braydon and Kyle were in the lead; I had Owen. I was a little distracted because I was trying to check our booth to make sure we hadn't left any hats or mittens behind... and before I can stop him, Owen has walked right up to the people at the table closest to ours and he's gently tapping the man on the arm. The man turns to him. Owen, in the sweetest cutest way imaginable, says, "What's your name?" As I'm just getting close enough to snatch Owen up into my arms (to try to restrain my little social butterfly just a bit), the man says, with a big grin, "James." Owen smiles widely, so pleased with himself, then looks the woman straight in the eye, and so sweetly and pointedly says, "What's your name?" She says, "Angela. What's your name?" And Owen, again, so pleased with himself, says, "I'm Owen." Well, that was it. My boy was in his groove. And there was no stopping him. In order to avoid a major meltdown/tantrum the only way to get out of that restaurant was to let him do his thing -- he proceeded to ask every single person we passed, "What's your name?" To which every single person we passed responded (with huge grins and delighted giggles) by kindly stating their name. Many also added on the polite ending: "And what's your name?" To which Owen would sweetly and proudly state, "I'm Owen" each and every time. Well, suffice it to say, he had charmed half the restaurant (including half the waitstaff, the bartenders, and the hostesses) by the time we got through the door. A couple of people in the bar area actually got up from their barstools and purposefully walked over to the door just to be able to position themselves firmly in Owen's path in order to receive one of his adorable, "What's your name?"'s. Owen, of course, happily obliged them. Since my mom and Braydon and Kyle were ahead of us, they had all been out of the restaurant long before Owen and I emerged onto the sidewalk. As we walked toward the car, with Owen in my arms, I was proudly explaining to my mother how gosh darn CUTE my boy had just been. I said, "Owen, say it to MorMor." And Owen, cute as a button, says -- looking my mother right in the eyes -- "What's your name?" And my mom of course responded, "MorMor!" I said, "Mom, now ask him his name!" So my mom says to Owen, "What's your name?" ... and Owen ... rather than respond right back "I'm Owen" as he just had about 20 times in the restaurant, just sits there, paused, silently thinking to himself. After a long silent pause, Owen looks my mom right in the eye and responds firmly: "Claire."
?????!!!!!!! Who the heck is Claire?! Not one person in that restaurant had said the name Claire?! Not one person at daycare all day was named Claire?! We have no friends named Claire?! ?????!!!!! My mom and I cracked up in hysterics over Owen's antics for about the zillionth time in the past week.
Good behavior from my twin two year old boys in restaurants is worth a pretty penny!
Owen's sweet sociability charming-the-socks-off all of our fellow diners is worth even more!
But... Owen's hysterical little sense of humor: PRICELESS.
That boy is quite the character!
Last night, as a little token of our gratitude for all she's done for us in the past week, we took my mother out for dinner at one of her (and our) favorite family-friendly/great-food-yet-a-chain-restaurants: Carrabba's. Like any three sane adults would be, we were somewhat (o.k., I admit it- VERY) nervous about taking our twin two year old boys to a "real" sit-down restaurant. Yes, we eat out with them quite a lot... but usually at places like Panera or Baja or McDonalds (click here to see a post I wrote in October about eating out with twin two year olds). It is hard to explain it until you've actually done it, but just trust me on this one: bringing K & O out to eat is nerve-wracking at best. Let's face it, even eating a meal with them at home (even our own home) can be nerve-wracking. Cups and silverware go flying (sometimes a genuine "accident" sometimes *not* so much!), they sing loudly, they "organize" their food in little piles all over the table, they like to joke around with each other and their other table-mates in all sorts of ways, they wiggle, they squirm, they burp a lot, they slurp, they get frustrated with spoons so they use their hands and then suddenly need to hug you tight with foodstuff all over their hands and faces and clothes (so now it is all over you too), they eat fast, they eat slow, sometimes they decide they don't want to eat at all, if you're not watching closely enough they'll try to "paint" with their yogurt or milk or soup (or whatever!), they ask constantly for ice-cream (Owen) and Fig Newtons (Kyle) and vitamins (both of 'em), they laugh wildly, they have very active imaginations ("Hey! I know! You see this bowl?! This bowl is my motorboat-- you hear this loud motorboat's motor? Hey! STOP carrots! You have a red light carrots! O.k., carrots! Light is green carrots! Go carrots! Go in my mouth now carrots! Yay carrots! Hey! You see this fork? This fork is my chainsaw! Watch me start my chainsaw motor! Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! Watch me cut my avacado with this chainsaw!") Etc., Etc., Etc. Need I say more???
Anywhoooo.........
Last night we really wanted to take my mother out to Carrabba's. We had never taken the boys there, but my mom loves their pastas (as do we), and we wanted to at least try to do something nice for her (since god knows she's done so many nice things for us in the past week).
We arrived at 6:00 and were told it would be a 30 minute wait. My mother's immediate reaction was we should leave. That really says something about my mother: she knows our boys very well. Also, given that she was at the end of a whole week with them, she was justly tired and understandably frazzled -- but not deliriously so (as Braydon and I are 24x7). She had the presence of mind to at least know that a 30 minute wait was unreasonable for our little party of five, and that we should just get out of there quickly while we still could (the boys even still had their coats on!). She actually admitted later that when she heard "thirty minute wait" she had thought "let's find a McDonalds." But Braydon and I were insistent: "No! We really want to take you out to dinner! No! We are going to wait for a table!" She looked at us like we were crazy, and then she manned her station in the waiting area with Owen on her lap.
By some miracle we got through the entire 1/2 hour long wait totally beautifully. Our boys were like poster-children for eating out with toddlers. They were quiet, calm, well-behaved. Kyle just wanted to suck his thumb and be held by me, cuddling and snuggling the entire time (surely to the envy of most women in the place, who if given the chance would probably pay good money to get that kind of affection from a beautiful young child at the end of the day! - I know I definately would if I didn't get it for free!). And Owen -- the little extravert that he is -- just hung out with MorMor and Papi and proceeded to enchant all of the other guests waiting for tables. Us three adults were thrilled and shocked! Things only continued to go wonderfully. I'll just cut to the chase here: We got our booth and two booster seats, we had a full civilized meal --drinks (chocolate milk for the under-3 crowd, sangria for the 3-and-over crowd), appetizers (the best calamari), salads (adults only - the boys wanted nothing to do with it), and entrees (just for the record: K & O loved their penne with alfredo and fresh romano) -- the boys were absolutely perfect angels, and all five of us had a delightful evening. Shocker of all shockers! We were most amazed. [Not quite inspired enough to try it again tonight, but maybe we'll take them to Carrabba's again sometime in the not-too-distant-future... which, honestly, is a lot more than any of us thought we'd be saying the day after!]
After a lovely dinner experience we were all getting up to leave. My mother and Braydon and Kyle were in the lead; I had Owen. I was a little distracted because I was trying to check our booth to make sure we hadn't left any hats or mittens behind... and before I can stop him, Owen has walked right up to the people at the table closest to ours and he's gently tapping the man on the arm. The man turns to him. Owen, in the sweetest cutest way imaginable, says, "What's your name?" As I'm just getting close enough to snatch Owen up into my arms (to try to restrain my little social butterfly just a bit), the man says, with a big grin, "James." Owen smiles widely, so pleased with himself, then looks the woman straight in the eye, and so sweetly and pointedly says, "What's your name?" She says, "Angela. What's your name?" And Owen, again, so pleased with himself, says, "I'm Owen." Well, that was it. My boy was in his groove. And there was no stopping him. In order to avoid a major meltdown/tantrum the only way to get out of that restaurant was to let him do his thing -- he proceeded to ask every single person we passed, "What's your name?" To which every single person we passed responded (with huge grins and delighted giggles) by kindly stating their name. Many also added on the polite ending: "And what's your name?" To which Owen would sweetly and proudly state, "I'm Owen" each and every time. Well, suffice it to say, he had charmed half the restaurant (including half the waitstaff, the bartenders, and the hostesses) by the time we got through the door. A couple of people in the bar area actually got up from their barstools and purposefully walked over to the door just to be able to position themselves firmly in Owen's path in order to receive one of his adorable, "What's your name?"'s. Owen, of course, happily obliged them. Since my mom and Braydon and Kyle were ahead of us, they had all been out of the restaurant long before Owen and I emerged onto the sidewalk. As we walked toward the car, with Owen in my arms, I was proudly explaining to my mother how gosh darn CUTE my boy had just been. I said, "Owen, say it to MorMor." And Owen, cute as a button, says -- looking my mother right in the eyes -- "What's your name?" And my mom of course responded, "MorMor!" I said, "Mom, now ask him his name!" So my mom says to Owen, "What's your name?" ... and Owen ... rather than respond right back "I'm Owen" as he just had about 20 times in the restaurant, just sits there, paused, silently thinking to himself. After a long silent pause, Owen looks my mom right in the eye and responds firmly: "Claire."
?????!!!!!!! Who the heck is Claire?! Not one person in that restaurant had said the name Claire?! Not one person at daycare all day was named Claire?! We have no friends named Claire?! ?????!!!!! My mom and I cracked up in hysterics over Owen's antics for about the zillionth time in the past week.
Good behavior from my twin two year old boys in restaurants is worth a pretty penny!
Owen's sweet sociability charming-the-socks-off all of our fellow diners is worth even more!
But... Owen's hysterical little sense of humor: PRICELESS.
That boy is quite the character!
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