A little kindness makes everything nicer

The other day, I took The Dictator and The Hormone King to Red Robin for dinner with my dear friend (Goob's mom) and her son (Goob). Goob's mom was able to hook me up with free kids' meal coupons...with Hubs planning some sort of strategic warfare on the opposing baseball team at Lamppost Pizza, I figured, what the hell? All I'd have to pay for was myself. Sweet!

The Dictator was in fine form that night. He was singing. He was sliding. He was yelling. He was touching. He was dancing. He was leaning. He was picking his nose...and eating it.

He was doing this all IN THE BOOTH AT RED ROBIN.

I threatened. Icounted. I gave The Look of Death. None of it was working.

Finally I realized I was going to have to get my stupid fat ass out of the booth, drag his little whiny ass outside and beat the hell out of him.

*sigh*

I hate it when they call my bluff.

I rolled out of the booth, grabbed his wrist and started walking...all with him yelling, "I don't want to go outside! Are you going to smack me? Are you going to smack me?"

So, I'm dragging him by his wrist. He's whining and I'm fuming. I'm plotting in my head the consequences I'm going to dole out on this insolent little creature. Talking? Spanking? Squeezing? Pinching? There are so many options.

As I'm perusing my mental rolodex of punishments, a sweet Red Robin employee jogs ahead of me to open the door for me.

Now, this is normal procedure. But in this particular instance, all I could think was, "Huh. He just opened the door for me to go beat my son. That was awfully considerate of him."

Kindness, kids. I'm all about kindness.