Brinner and a Show

My wife and I decided to run out for brinner (breakfast at dinner), and you can't really beat Denny's for a good but cheap 24 hour breakfast menu. What I didn't realize was it was bring your bratty kid night, and there we were without bratty kids of our own. Let's take a tour of the dining room where we sat:

• Behind us was a couple with at least four kids. They weren't bouncing off the ceiling, but their idea of dinner conversation involved incontinence, various bodily fluids, ear wax, eye crud, and who knows what else. At one point the dad said "we're a family that can talk about anything". I agree, but do you have to do it in a roomful of people trying to eat?
• Moving over a couple of tables we have the amazing giant enormous woman, her half-sized husband, and two kids who clearly got their genes from the giant enormous side of the family. Now I'm sure the lady will claim some sort of glandular problem, except that I saw what they ate. After downing huge portions of whatever "slam" they had chosen, it was milkshakes and chocolate cake for all. It's not just biofuels that are causing food shortages around the globe. Glands, my rear end (or her rear end).
• The main act was over in the corner where a woman was dining with two kids, a girl about 6 and a boy about 4. Neither kid had any use for the bench seats except to stand on them while they were eating. The girl tried to swing the overhead lamp while the boy shrieked about whatever came to mind and jumped up and down. The mother was oblivious. She's getting what she deserves.

Since my kids are now older you might think that I'm glad those days are over, except we never had those days. My kids knew what seats were for and how to converse with one another at sub-jet engine decibel levels. They wouldn't dare do otherwise. Our dinner were peaceful, pleasant experiences, filled with talk of the day that was appropriate to the situation. Call me old fashioned, but it worked pretty darn well .