Noodles and Meltdowns

All parents have them.

Disastrous encounters at restaurants with their children.

And my turn was last night. Somehow, someway, my four-year-old traded places with another child, one who might possibly be from another planet.

We were dining at the Old Spaghetti Factory, and it started with the coloring sheet they bring to kids. Hayden began coloring away, but welled up with tears when spaghetti sauce from his entree spilled over the side of his bowl and landed on his artwork.

I guess the boy gets it honest. His reaction was similiar to the one I would have if Starbucks went belly-up, or the one his father would have if CVS had a shortage on bubble bath. Either way, it wasn't pleasant.

The kid wanted a new coloring sheet, and he wanted it NOW.

Hayden also suffered a terrible bout of "manners-amnesia," and suddenly began shoveling food in his mouth as if he was part of those hot-dog eating contests I can never watch on tv. Hayden then found humor in shaking his head back and forth as the noodles half-hanging out of his mouth were flipped all over the table.

Realizing he was in big trouble, Hayden announced he needed to go to the bathroom.

Great, considering the so-called RESTroom would be nothing but after an inconvenient trek down several flights of stairs to the ill-located potty. I told him to hold it, knowing he wasn't desperate to go, just desperate to avoid time-alone.

We finished our meal quickly, made a pit-stop in the dungeon-like bathroom, and ran for the doors faster than the Kenyans who win the Mini-Marathon, but instead of music on the way home, we listened to the longest tantrum in history. I think it just may make the record books.

The only comforting thing was knowing Hayden isn't always like this, and every parent has a less-than-proud moment in public. At least I hope. If you haven't, please don't tell me.

I choose to believe we parents aren't in this alone, which is why our kids aren't registered on Ebay.

Not yet, anyway.