Forgotten Sleep

Lately, we haven’t taken Big Girl and Little Man out to a restaurant because they turn into little evil gnomes every time we try to go out. But, considering that both my parents are here this weekend, Loving Husband just successfully pulled off the first public seminar for his new company and Mom and I spent the day attacking the disorganization that is my house, we thought attempting dinner at Ruby Tuesday’s would be a good idea.

Surprisingly, things were going relatively well. Mom and I had strawberry sangria, Dad had a mojito and Loving Husband had a beer. Both kids were happily eating their dinners (yes, Little Man can feed himself now). Dinner conversation was nice and entertaining.

Then, Big Girl got fidgety and rubbed her shoes across the pleather booth seat. It made that sound that makes you so embarrassed when you’re a teenager and your shoe scrubs awkwardly across the floor — you just desperately want people to know that you did not, in fact, fart in public.

Being not quite three, that sound doesn’t make Big Girl blush. But, she was unaware that it was her shoe that caused the disturbance. So, she leaned over to Dad, who she calls Papa, and said, “Say ‘excuse me,’ Papa!” He didn’t respond. “Say ‘excuse me,’ Papa!!” He didn’t respond. “Papa! You farted —- say ‘excuse me!’”

This got Papa’s attention, but he said, “I’m fired?!” This just made her giggle and just encouraged her to talk louder.

“No, Papa! Say ‘excuse me!’ You farted!”

“Not me — I didn’t fart.”

“Yes, Papa!! It was you!! You farted!! Say excuse me.”

By this point, you can imagine that we are all pretty much cracking up, tears running down our face, trying in vain to not draw attention to ourselves.

It was pretty clear that any amount of protestation was going to convince Big Girl that no one at the table had committed this faux pas, so we all gave up. Fortunately, she soon became just as engaged with her french fries as she was with calling Papa out on the supposed indiscretion.