We took Ali to the Cheesecake Factory Saturday night for appetizers and dessert.
I’m not sure what possessed us to do such a crazy thing, except that we were craving some yummy chocolatey goodness due to our high hopes for such had been dashed the night before at a banquet when we were served white birthday cake instead of the delectable chocolate cheesecake we were expecting.
So we went to The Cheesecake Factory early – we got there slightly before 5 – but the line was still already crazy.
Amanda met us there, because earlier when we told Ali that we were going to go out to eat and get cake, her first response was, “And then Amanda will come see me??”. And you know that if a Godmother hears about a request like that, she will
get off the couch change all of her socialite plans to come have dinner with her Godchild.
We got extremely lucky and got a booth away from the loudest part of the restaurant, and it had a window “seat” – because you know that toddlers can make a seat out of anything.
The problem was that we had conveniently forgotten how long the meal was drawn out there. You know – The Experience – The Ambiance – The Conversation.
However, two year olds don’t exactly “get” that concept.
She did well, but she so badly wanted to get down and walk to each table and visit with all of the other patrons.
That sort of behavior is fine in Chick-Fil-A, but not so much in The Cheesecake Factory, where people are going for The Experience – The Ambiance – The Conversation.
And last time I checked, The Experience did not include an overly friendly two year old going from table to table, serenading all of the patrons with a dozen “HIIII!!” ‘s and showing off her jumping skills.
So I let her sit in my lap (this is still before the food arrived), where she continued begging me to get down.
I told her no once more, and said, “You need to find your happy heart.”
And, at that very moment, as if a little demon had control over her hand, she ever so slowly and seemingly deliberately lifted up her middle finger. Then she looked up at me and brought it right in front of my face, still slowly, and proceeded to put her middle finger up my nose. Repeatedly.
After we all finished laughing to the point of tears, all the while Ali saying “Ali’s funny. Ali’s FUNNY”, I managed to tell her with a straight face, “That was not your happy heart.”
But she sure helped us find ours.