It's hard being a dad with a mental maturity level of a twelve year old

Well it seems I don't learn from past experiences... I believe that makes me insane, in that I do the same thing over and expect a different outcome.

Well we hit Centreville for the second time this year. The boys love it and well me I like it because the boys do but the crowds drive me right mental, like keep all sharp objects away from me mental. Even though my mental sate is questionable I still am able to retain my keen sense of observation. I was waiting in line like so many heads of cattle waiting at the abbatoir, and I see a fellow who looked like he's done well for himself. He's probably mid 40's and is clad in everything with a brand name right down to the Rolex watch. One small issue though which in my not so humble opinion ruins the whole image, one sock Adidas and the other with a lovely Nike swoosh. Douche bag, when you get dress make sure your socks match it's the little details that can make or break an image I mean I can go into debt to grab a Rolex and buy all kinds of brand name clothes but if you don't polish the image you still look like a friggen dork regardless of how much money you spend or have. Well needless to say this put a giggle into me for a good portion of the day.

So what else did I encounter... oh the infamous "I need to pee" whilst in the middle of nowhere even though we are on Queens Quay. Friggen restaurants with thier nazi attitudes regarding their washrooms. Yes I understand every flush of the toilet costs money not a lot but it does cost. I understand you only want to let people who consume what ever you sell use it. He's a six year old. You as a restaurant or a cafe should be honoured that I as a parent deemed your establishment worthy of accepting my son's urine, that I saw your restaurant and thought it would be clean enough for the highest of highnesses. Ungrateful wretches that man the consumer world retail outlets.

So all in all the kids behaved reasonably well for the day we DVD'd them in the car on the ride home so it was peaceful. As it was nearing 7:30 we decided a restaurant meal would be a good idea rather than waiting to get home and cook something. East Side Mario's was the choice of the woman in charge, so that is where we go. We get there and it is pretty quiet being that it is a Sunday night and fairly late. So they seat us at a gigantic booth, I mean this could seat 8 people, we are only two adults and two children and neither Dianna or I are particularly large. So the boy side one aside on the booth and out come the barrage of toys that my wife carries with her at all times. Instead of giving only one or two to David she gives the whole bag of cars to him. Well that is just an invitation for him to mimic a 15 car pileup on the 401. This of course means that you have to have some go over the edge in a firey explosion. So the cars start their clattering decent into the bowels of darkness that lay beneath the table. My six year old finds this very entertaining. Good, he can climb under the table and pick them up. So off I go on my little rant to the young one to sit, be quiet, behave and what have you and I am staring at him with my best daddy death stare. I believe his response was "vroom" which at that point made a blood vessel in my left eye explode. This was enough to set my wife into a fit of attempted concealed laughter. You know what I am talking about that laugh people do when they knbow they aren't supposed to laugh where it looks like their body is dry heaving but they have a smile on their face... yeah that one. Well that pushed me over the edge, it was at that point that I wanted no more of my children or wife at that time. I said, to know one in particular, "Daddy is off duty please direct any and all inquiries to mommy for the remainder of the evening." Which of course at this point my six year old asks what's an inquiry. I pointed to my wife and took a sip of my beer.

So my wife has about a minute of dealing with the two year old before she ops for a high chair intervention program. At least this way the little minion is contained. So the rest of the meal is somewhat uneventful except they brought David his dinner in a dish shaped like a boat. I mean WTF are they thinking? As a parent we teach them not to play with their food and these sick bastards think it's a good idea to use a boat dish for a two year old's meal? Mental, I tell you, mental. We near the end of the meal and David is running out of steam and is leaning back in his high chair and there is this waitress walking by and stops and says, "Hey little man whatcha doing? We be chillin'?" Again WTF goes through my head, here is this waitress not much older than 18. didn't that phrase die a horrible death about 10 years ago or is that still cool? She then when into a babbling tirade of how she looks like a librarian and comes out with "we be chillin'" maybe she is more librarian like then I thought it would be pretty nerdy to use that phrase long after it had lost it's cool... Maybe the babbling tirade was because of the look of shock and awe on my face for her uttering such an atrocity at my child. Or maybe it was just David with his nonchalant fuck you look he had... I dunno...