We’ve all been there. All you want is a nice quiet dinner with your family, but no one wants to work all day and then cook too. Last Friday I came home from dealing with so much trash I won’t even get into it. I was tired, hungry and horny. I’m telling you all this so you can understand a brother’s state of mind, and the incredible amount of restraint I demonstrated.

Anyway, I got home at the exact same time as the wife, and she was feeling two out of three of the same things I was. You can guess which two they were. Like the good husband I am, I suggested we go out to eat. I won’t lie; I was hoping a good meal would put her in the mood, at least for three or four good minutes. I’m married, I take what I can get.

Before we could get to the door our thirteen-year-old son ran down the stairs.

“I’m hungry too,” he said, looking silly as he put his shoes on in between steps. “Can we go to Red Lobster? They have endless shrimp.”

What could I do? My boy only felt one emotion, endless hunger. My wife didn’t care where we went, and the boy had his heart set on shrimp, so I said yes.

On a Friday night, you can usually expect a good fifteen minute wait time, but luck was on our side, and we were seated right away.  Now, as everyone knows, what can seem like good luck at first can reveal itself to be rotten luck later.

Next to our table was another little family out for dinner as well; there were two young parents, a boy, maybe five-years-old and a girl, I’ll guess seven. From the moment we sat down, shit started to get hectic. Excuse my language, but wait, you’ll understand.

The little girl started first.

“I want cake. I want cream-cake now. Right now, mommy, now!” she started screaming like she lost her ever-loving mind.

My wife and I looked at each other, and I expected the little girl to get the back of her mother’s hand, but that’s not what happened.

“Now, Sydney, you know you shouldn’t have dessert until after dinner,” her mother softly replied.

“Bitch, I said want my cake now. I don’t want to wait. What’s wrong with you?”

“Sydney, we don’t use that kind of language in public.”

When the mom said, ‘in public’ I almost choked on my cheesy biscuits. They are great by the way. I looked at the father and he had his head buried in his cell phone. He was clearly pretending to be blind and deaf.

The girl then picked up her drink, and poured it on the floor. I thought, oh Lord, this miserable child is about to die, and I’ll have to testify in court. But neither God, nor the child’s parents struck her down.

“Sydney, stop. We’ll take you and your brother for Ice cream on the way home. Is that okay?” she said, not even trying to clean the soda off the floor.

I said the little girl started first, because after the mom said ice cream, their son jumped out of his chair, and ran up and down the aisle screaming, “Ice cream, Ice cream, ice cream.” All while bumping into people’s tables and stepping on their toes.

Do you think either parent got up to get him? No way. The mother weakly called, “Billy, come back here.” Her pleas were ignored. I’m sure not for the first time either, and the punk father didn’t even look up.

At that point my son looked at me. “Did I ever do that?”

“Do you limp when you walk?” I answered.

“No.”

“Then you have your answer.”

By the time Billy made his third lap around the restaurant my wife was done. She picked up her purse, gave the other mother the evil eye and stormed out.

We didn’t get endless shrimp that night. We settled on McDonald’s drive thru instead. Food was food to my son, and he went to bed happy. My wife, after her meal and a long shower, slipped on her granny panties and went to bed. This told me, my night was pretty much over. I went to the den and logged on to FanStory. I gave lots of three star reviews that night.

I have no doubt if not for the other family my night would have ended a lot better. I miss the days when adults were over their kids. Know what I mean?