I want to take a moment to apologize to you for being bad guests at your restaurant. Let me start by saying that you guys were awesome, my family – not so much.
When I came in and said that we’d have a party of four, with two children and in need of a high chair, there was no way that you could predict we’d be more devastating than a bunch of college kids who pregamed too hard and couldn’t handle our booze.
Everything started innocent enough with an order of a kids apple juice and a Sam Adams. Hell our waitress was even good enough to ask if we wanted to place our son’s dinner order so he could have his spaghetti and meatballs, while my wife (who had yet to arrive) and I looked over the menu. Shortly after the wife came, we added a water and a kids cup of water.
Then came the fun.
Our little girl got antsy and needed to be walked around the store while I ordered. Soon after the spaghetti and meat balls came and the kiddos were sharing. The key word there was WERE. Lil man was too busy playing with his Optimus Prime that he didn’t realize that his elbow was in his food and then CRASH – spaghetti on the floor. Enter sad panda and a waitress who was quick to not only get the crew to do a clean-up but also a complimentary refill of pasta.
After the pasta was cleaned up, the baby threw a tantrum and needed another walk. Food came and the refill of pasta came so it was rapid eat mode. My wife and daughter returned and we ripped through the shrimp and fish. Then our daughter decided to start yelling “poop…poop…poopie,” mixed in with some pretty serious grunts. We figured that she was just doing some work and making a good #2.
Little did we know, we were getting a Linda Blair special…
My dear wife took our princess to the bathroom and told me to get the check and wrap the food – normal protocol right?
As I am wrapping the food and getting the check, I noticed that my wife was taking a long time. Like girls at a bar long. So I started to get our son ready to go and I notice two big green pools on the bench. My only though was – Oh Shit. My wife then comes bouncing back from the bathroom with a football-sized bundle of paper towels and a pantless baby. Again – my thoughts – OH SHIT.
She sees the puddle and we discuss how we should handle it. The seating counter said they would handle it when I said my daughter had an accident. I insisted that we do it, but no “we got this” was all they said. They thought it was puke. My wife told me to get our car to bring our semi-naked daughter out.
As I got her out there, my wife came out saying that she tipped well and that wow, this was an experience we will never forget.
On the drive home she described the bathroom. She said that she told the waitress that the smell was unescapable and that they might want to sanitize the changing table. The best description of the aftermath was an atomic anal explosion. If you ask me, pretty impressive for a 17-month old.
So to the staff at Miller’s Ale House in Watertown, MA, I apologize and promise to come back without the kids. We will make sure to buy more food and booze, that is, if you will have us.
Apologies from the depths of my heart.
~the Esposito family