Restaurant related mortification
One of the "joys" of parenthood is dealing with your childrens' social blunders in public. For instance:

-sitting in a restaurant after going to the zoo with my kids, we were having some much needed food. We had spent the afternoon wandering around and looking at the animals, me with a child in a backpack while Nurse Ratched took another in a stroller and the third mostly walked on his own, but sometimes needed to be carried by the Dad. So we went to a cheap "family restaurant" (meaning a place two steps removed from McDonalds, but at least I could get a beer) and were relaxing for a bit before the drive home. My son looks around at the other patrons, most of whom were ranging from rotund to morbidly obese, and announces at the tops of his lungs, "I call this BIG FAT family fun day!"

-we were in a Chinese restaurant one evening when neither Nurse Ratched or I felt like cooking. We were seated and looking over the menus when my son (the younger one) screamed "Chinese chicken!" in a bad accent and made buck teeth and slanted his eyes. My daughter giggled and then quoted from the old Disney movie "The Aristocats": "Hing hang hong hong, fortune cookie always wrong!" and made a similar face.

And we won't even go into the dinners out with my mom, my sisters and all of the various little cousins and my sons screaming nonsense at each other across the table to their cousins. My sisters saw that I was about to commit infanticide, fortunately, but I later informed them that I hoped that my nephew would one day get exactly what he kept saying to the boys to get them so wound up: a "poopy penis."

You younger folk: have you ever wondered why your parents embarrassed you so much as teens? Now you know.

It's payback time, bitches.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Mon 1 Dec 2008, 15:27, Reply)