The Lottery That is Eating Out with My Little Girl

Dining out as a family, with my girl in tow, has always been somewhat of a gamble. You have your good days and your bad days, and we’ll genuinely have no idea how its going to go until we’re sat at the table, trapped between having already ordered and having not yet received our food. Some days she’ll sit and eat her food peacefully, laughing and talking with us and, when boredom finally hits, will sit and watch a phone or her tablet. Others, though, she’ll be an absolute nightmare; shouting and screaming, begging to get out of her chair every five minutes and throwing her cutlery on the floor. There’s no real indicator as to which performance we'll get either; she'll be good as gold all day and then she’ll just flip at the table, for reasons that I’m not even sure she is aware of.

I’ve been convinced that taking her out to eat regularly from an early age would make her the perfect little girl at a restaurant. I’d expected the hardships and that my patience would be tested on occasion; but thinking it and being there as it happens are two different things. The first eatery she’d visited was Tex-Mex spot Chiquito at two months old, although I’m not naïve enough to think that she’d be able to recall it, and we’d taken her out at least once a month before Britain’s attempt at a lockdown. Nearly empty restaurants, as indeed Chiquito was that day, make it easier to manage her than those that are busy, as she likes to have time out of her chair to explore. I’ve followed her around the building in a manner that is respectful to other diners, giving her the chance to satisfy her curiosity as it allows us to enjoy a somewhat quiet meal as much as we can.

Despite the above, I don’t plan to stop once it is deemed socially acceptable to dine in a way that will suit our little family. Moreover, experiencing the food cultures of different countries has been a privilege for me and I’d love to take them on as many city breaks as I do poolside holidays. We will suffer as much as we thrive and I’m sure we will be bad-mouthed in more than one kitchen (and I'm not counting out the sneeze-muffin, as Rachel from Friends put it). We always have a clean-up job of our own before we deem it acceptable to leave to the service staff and their tablets will be our constant companions, but we wouldn’t have it any other way (ok, that’s a lie). Eating out is one of my favourite pastimes and, since I have been told I can’t force football or tennis on my girls, I hope to use this as a bonding mechanism. Carnivore, pescatarian, vegetarian, vegan or whatever other diet they come up with in the future, everyone loves good food, don’t they?

Be it a feast that leaves me legitimately worried as to whether I’m going to explode or intimate petite plates that have many contemplating a kebab after a few post-dinner drinks, there are few greater pleasures than a good meal. It’s obvious that my girl is more suited to the former, with the havoc that she’ll create and the fact that half her food will be on the table, the floor and in her hair. The latter I will save for me and my wife’s child-free nights (oh, the bliss!), be that with friends, parents or just the two of us. Her dishes will come from a few staple items, limited mainly to chicken nuggets, fish fingers or mac ‘n’ cheese, although eventually I’ll convince the Mrs to try her with something new (what, with my obsession in broadening her appetite); and we're chancing our arm there too. One thing that is always guaranteed, however, is that she will have some cake or ice cream at the end, and we will have no issue getting her to wolf that down!

By Calum Dewsbury