LOCAL ANGLES: EATING OUT CAN BE CATASTROPHE WITH THE KIDS

Eating out takes on a whole new flavor when you have kids.

Gone are the days of leisurely dining out -- unless you fork out some bucks for a babysitter.

My wife Joni and I used to love to frequent restaurants, unwinding at the end of a hard day's work.

But now that we have a 2-year-old daughter, Rebecca, eating out is just not the same.

Naturally, we don't eat out as much. Still, no parent wants to cook all the time. If nothing else, Joni and I like to get out just to gaze at all those adults who are seated in the restaurants, enjoying nice leisurely meals without kids.

For parents, eating out with the kids is one of life's big challenges. Just getting ready to go out to eat takes more planning than the D-Day invasion.

It sometimes feels like you're going into combat. The object is no longer to enjoy the occasion, but merely to survive it.

When they're babies, you have to haul them into restaurants in their infant carriers along with bottles of formula, diapers, wipes and all sorts of assorted toys.

This requires the waiter to seat you at a King Kong-sized table that's only used for parties of eight or a couple and a baby.

As a dad, my goal during such an outing was to wolf down my food and get out of the restaurant without my child having a screaming fit or throwing up on me, the waitress or anyone else who happened to be there.

I remember the time a former councilman picked up one of my nephews at a local restaurant and the boy promptly threw up a greeting. The boy's mother vowed not to take her son to a restaurant again until he graduated from high school.

When Rebecca graduated to the toddler stage, we no longer had to carry her into a restaurant. Holding her tiny hands, we would lead her into the establishment, where she could sit in a high chair for at least a few minutes before she started fidgeting, and getting cracker crumbs all over the floor and ketchup smeared on her face and clothes.

With a toddler, eating out is just plain messy. I've often thought restaurants should install portable washing machines at some tables so you could clean the clothes right away.

When a toddler's in tow, it can also be downright noisy. I remember one Florida vacation several years ago in which another of our nephews provided plenty of hearty screaming at a waterfront restaurant.

When the whole family got up to leave, one female patron -- who had been particularly peeved by our nephew's lung power -- applauded with gusto.

Rebecca turned 2 in February. Since then she's become very independent. These days she wants to walk in the restaurant by herself, oblivious to the fact that she might get run over by a hard-charging group of starving adults.

She still sits in a high chair and finds a way to bury the surrounding floor in cracker crumbs.

She talks more now. "I want..I want...I want" is a popular refrain, which she can belt out louder than an opera singer.

It's at these times when parents wish restaurants had sound-proof booths.

Before Rebecca was born, Joni and I used to comment disparagingly about misbehaving kids who interrupted our dining-out times.

Not anymore. These days we consider dining out a success if we get through the meal without the highchair tipping over.

With a 2-year-old, you still can't dawdle over dinner. Rebecca will only consent to sit so long, fingering her chicken fingers and eating ketchup.

Children want chicken fingers whether you're dining at Burger King or Red Lobster. I'm convinced kids are born with some chicken-finger gene that causes them to stick out their tongues at anything else on the menu.

Restaurant decor means nothing to kids Rebecca's age. For them, the best restaurants are the fast-food kind -- the ones with all those kid-meal toys. If there's a carousel to ride or those colored balls to play in, so much the better.

Of course, in that case, parents still have to hurry up and eat so the kids can romp around in the play area.

And so, what if you gulp down dinner in three bites? At least the toys are neat.

~Mark Bliss is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.