2003-06-08 - 7:38 p.m.

Stupid parent of the day award goes to the woman this morning who sat at c-4 with her two children, husband and two friends. In an attempt to look like mother of the year in front of her friends she made her four year old order for himself. It went something like this….

“Tell the waitress what you want for breakfast Michael,” she says with a sweet smile and a reassuring hand on little Michaels shoulder.

I get….a blank, terrified stare from little Michael.

“Michael, tell the waitress what you want for breakfast,” she repeats and rolls her eyes at her table mates.

I get…a more blank, a more terrified stare from little Michael.

“Michael, the waitress is waiting,” she says as though it is funny and cute situation we have entered into…meanwhile, my entire section has just been seated and I have twenty five impatient people glaring at me.

Michael stares.

The father finally steps in, “Michael, do you want pancakes?”


Mother says, “Please? Michael, remember your manners,”

Terrified blank stare.

Father says, “Do you want eggs?”


Mother says, “PLEASE, I want eggs PLEASE.”

Terrified stare from Michael, annoyed look from husband, embarrassed look from their friends.

Father says, “Okay, Michael will have the kids plate with pancakes and scrambled eggs and I’ll have the Denver omelet and a bagel please.”

Michael finally finds a voice and mumbles, “bacon, I want some bacon.”

Mother pipes in, “PLEASE, I want some bacon PLEASE.”

“Please,” Michael mumbles.

“And how about a thank you?” she continues.

“Thank you,” Michael tells the table.

So then I turn to the mother to get her order and she has no idea what she wants and makes me wait longer than it took to get the speechless, bullied little boys order. She is giggling like she is the cutest thing on earth for not knowing what she wants, forgetting that just moments ago she reminded her little boy, “the waitress is waiting.” She finally figures it out and says, “Okay, I’ll have the cheese blintzies (they are cheese blintzES not IES I am screaming in my head) but I don’t want any cheese filling, just strawberries,” she tells me.

“So you want the strawberry blintzES then, not the cheese blintzES?” I ask just because I want to point out that she is being stupid.

“No, I want the cheese blintzies, with none of the cheese filling, I had them last time with the cheese and the only part I liked was the strawberries that were outside,” she explains.

“Yes ma’am, so without the cheese all you have is strawberries which would make it a strawberry blintz,”

“Well, I guess so, but I don’t want any sour cream either, I want whipped cream and a side of Canadian bacon too…and with my meal I want a glass of milk,” she finishes.

“Large or small?”

“What? The blintzies? I thought there was only one size?”

“The milk Ma’am, large or small?”

“OOOOHHHH….large, wait, a small….well, how big is a large?”

“Twelve ounces,” I tell her.

“How big is that?”

Her husband at this point is about ready to jump across the table at her and almost screams, “JUST GET THE LARGE, I’ll finish it if you can’t”

“Okay….so, the blintzies, the sausage and the milk, that is what I will have.”

“Okay,” I say, “anything else?”

“No,” she says.

And then little Michael pipes in with a crystal clear voice, “THANK YOU, no THANK YOU,” he reminds his reddened mother who has not said please or thank you to me at all though she didn’t forget to remind her poor son a million times.

Sigh. Thank goodness for kids.


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