Japanese

As you know, on Sunday Diana spends the day working and usually takes the car.  Which leaves Elijah, Luca and I semi-stranded at the house.  Oh boo hoo.  How can they survive in the horrible place with 10,000 toys and games and tvs?  Yeah, whatever.  We get bored.

So I’ve instituted the Sunday adventure.  All it really is is us walking or taking the El to someplace for lunch.  Our first official adventure was to Five Guys for lunch and diarrhea.  

Last week, I decided to take the boys to their first Japanese restaurant.  There is one within walking distance of our house.  It’s also across the street from the pet store, which is a great bribe.

As we began our walk, it started raining.  Luckily, we all brought umbrellas.  Unluckily, Luca and Eli decided it was far better use their umbrellas as weapons than for their intended purpose.  Within a few minutes they were soaked.

We arrived at the Japanese restaurant (I’m not sure the name.  I just know it as “The Japanese Restaurant”) and, thankfully we were the first and only customers. 

When presented the menus, both boys very loudly shrieked, “Ew!  Gross!”  Our waitress hated us immediately.  I flipped to their kids’ section and ordered them such exotic items as “Chicken Fingers” and “Macaroni and Cheese.”  Yeah, I hedged my bet.  I figured just being present in a Japanese restaurant was enough.

After the waitress left, Luca and Elijah began to loudly inquire, “Is she Chinese, Dad?  Is she Chinese?!!!”  Our waitress hated us with a burning, white hot rage.

“First of all, we are in a Japanese restaurant.  Second, it’s not cool to call out someone’s race.”

“Is she Chinese, dada?”

“’Chinese’ is a bad word.”  That shut them up.  I figured I’d fix that wagon later.

Our food arrived and both boys decided they were not hungry.  Both forced down a bite of Satay and one solitary broccoli.  Luca then began dumping his macaroni and cheese onto the floor.  Our waitress wanted to murder us right then and there.

I quickly paid the bill (massive tip) and tried to escape.  Luca played a little game where he hid under our table, smashing macaroni into the carpet.  I don’t think he thought one of the rules of the game was to get forcibly yanked carried out of the restaurant.  But it was.

I’m heading to New Zealand for a couple weeks for work.  I’m pretty bummed about it.  Because I won’t be able to blog much.