A few weeks ago we had an old high school friend of Jen’s staying with us for a couple of days who happened to be a Buddhist so we needed to pick vegetarian and vegan restaurants to hit while he was in town. With me being lactose intolerant I don’t mind vegan fare so we picked a supposedly fancy vegan place in Santa Monica. However, it took us forever to get down there and Alex was super cranky. And it didn’t help that we couldn’t find a parking space so I dropped everyone off while Alex and I headed off in search of an overpriced garage somewhere. When we finally made our way back to the restaurant there were two entrances to the joint. And I still have no idea why. But to make matters worse, both places had their dining rooms upstairs and didn’t have an elevator. Normally this is no big deal for me but Alex had just fallen asleep in the stroller and I really didn’t want to wake up cranky pants, especially not just to run upstairs and see if I was in the right place, so I asked the hostess to check for me. But apparently she was sporting some cranky pants or a cranky thong, of her own, and refused to help me. So I called Jen on her cell to find out which restaurant she was in and Jen having zero sense of direction told me the wrong one so I unstrapped Alex, woke her up and carried her flailing body up the stairs to find no Jen. The day was not going well, and it just kept going in that direction.



Right as I arrived at the table, Jen was pulling out some snacks for the girls and a snooty waitress came by and said, “We don’t allow outside food or drinks in this establishment.” “Not even baby food?” “I’m sorry, no.” And of course they didn’t have a children’s menu. But they did have highchairs. Between the long journey down, the cranky baby and the overall attitude of the restaurant, Jen was fed up so we left Jen’s friend there (he had another long lost friend meeting us there to keep him company) and went on the prowl for some real food. We ended up at a California Pizza Kitchen and we were all very happy. Jen and I split some Sonora Spring Rolls and the girls got to eat their snacks in peace. But this whole experience made me think of my own Parents Ask question: When are your kids too old to bring a lunch? When is it time for them to start ordering off of the kid’s menu?



Even though I was pissed at the vegan suck-fest it occurred to me that Arden, being almost 5, is way too old to be bringing peanut butter sandwiches and lunchables to the Olive Garden. But at the same time whenever we order her something at a restaurant she eats maybe one or two bites at best which means I just threw away seven bucks. I’m also starting to get embarrassed walking into a restaurant with four people and only ordering two meals. So I’m at a bit of a dining crossroads at the moment…expect maybe when we go to IHOP on a “Kid’s Eat Free” night. Then I don’t mind bringing the girls their snacks and ordering something on the menu. But it’s usually something like extra bacon that Jen and I will enjoy if the no one else wants to partake. Anyway, I’d love to know what other people are doing and when they think the sack lunch shut-off should be.



Rick Suvalle is a professional film and television writer and a stay-at-home dad to two little girls.  Though not necessarily in that order.  He often blogs about his misadventures at ipeedonmykid.com