Restaurant Takes On Rowdy Kids

When I was eight years old, my family and I flew from Chicago to California and back again. Six hours total in a plane, and I can assure you I was a perfect angel. I didn't run up and down the aisles, I didn't scream or cry or fidget or kick the seat in front of me. Not because I wasn't an ordinary eight-year old, but because I knew that, if I acted up, my mother would find a way to convince the flight crew to jettison me somewhere over Omaha. And I don't recall anyone complimenting my parents on how well I acted, probably because, in those ancient times, people actually expected kids to behave themselves in public places. It wasn't some epic event that required everyone to praise the heroic parents who raised such well-behaved children. That was the minimum standard of acceptable behavior then.

It is a private establishment and therefore can have whatever rules they want.

I recommend Russian Tea Time.
http://www.russianteatime.com/index2.html
I love that place.

And even when kids aren't acting out, they are still kids and will be louder than adults and generally be kids, which some people find irritating while they are eating.

And even when kids aren't acting out, they are still kids and will be louder than adults and generally be kids,
which some people find irritating while they are eating. Nothing wrong with it.

I'm wondering whether one reason children misbehave in restaurants is that they aren't accustomed to sitting down for a family meal anyplace.

On the Fringes of Mr. Noddy's family there are several batches of toddlers who exist on snack food and who aren't taught table manners (unless not wiping your greasy fingers on Mommie's dress is table manners).

I know I've told this story before, but it's a good story.

Mr. Noddy and I were out for the evening at an upscale restaurant. A couple came in with a ten-year-old girl who banged on her water glass and rocked on her chair and sassed her parents and whined loudly....

Her parents made absolutely no attempt to control her behavior and glared right back at the other patrons who were glaring at them.

As we were leaving I stopped at the table and announced in a loud, clear voice how much I admired their courage and patience in seeing that their retarded daughter was given mainstream experiences.

The child's behavior improved immediately.

joefromchicago wrote:

When I was eight years old, my family and I flew from Chicago to California and back again. Six hours total in a plane, and I can assure you I was a perfect angel. I didn't run up and down the aisles, I didn't scream or cry or fidget or kick the seat in front of me. Not because I wasn't an ordinary eight-year old, but because I knew that, if I acted up, my mother would find a way to convince the flight crew to jettison me somewhere over Omaha. And I don't recall anyone complimenting my parents on how well I acted, probably because, in those ancient times, people actually expected kids to behave themselves in public places. It wasn't some epic event that required everyone to praise the heroic parents who raised such well-behaved children. That was the minimum standard of acceptable behavior then.

This bore repeating.

"You know, Miss, I actually have a step brother who was raised much the same way you're raising that child!"

"What's he doing now?" or "How's he making out now?"

He's in a federal penitentury, wishing he'd been raised properly!"