If it doesn't fit, throw a fit!

I got out of work the same time the girls got out of school the other day. We decided to rendezvous for lunch.

Rachel ate enough of her food that she was granted a quarter to hit up the M&M machine, despite asking "Can I have a quarter?" every 2.3 seconds after we said it would be okay. Chocolate waits for no one.

Anyway, she returned to the table and polished off the chocolate in short order, although she acted with great largess and gave me one of them. Now she would be plagued by the dreaded duo, boredom and chocolate-fueled hyperactivity.

We were seated on wooden benches at the front of the restaurant. The benches where people sat while waiting for tables were right next to us. There was a space big enough to pass between the bench and the wall leading to our table.

My wife was still eating. Rachel was in play mode. In her mind, someone had turned Greg Wiggle into a baby and she pulled a high chair toward our table. She told us Greg was in it. She tried to squeeze the high chair between the reception bench and the wall. It would not fit. She kept pressing the issue. We told her it would not fit. She kept at it. I told her to stop. She stomped her foot and let out a loud, frustrated, defiant cry.

I picked up the high chair(and presumably, Greg) and returned it to the corner. I scooped up Rachel and carried her outside. She buried her head in my shoulder. i began to explain how she was about to get in big trouble if she didn't "cool it." As I looked up, I saw an Atlanta Police car pull into a parking space. I waited for the officers to come out and start walking toward the restaurant. Still, facing me, Rachel asked what we waiting for. I gestured toward the officers who were now coming toward us.


I told Rachel, "See those officers? They came here because you were raising such a commotion. I then took her back into the restaurant, holding open the door for the officers.

To make matters even better, they seated the officers in the next booth over from us. One officer faced where Rachel and I were seated.

Yes, I felt guilty about my little lie. I'm also surprised it took me five years to pull a stunt like that.

I blame heredity.

I still remember one day in Dallas, Texas when I was growing up. It was a Sunday morning. My sister and I were making a lot of noise. The phone rang. After hanging up, dad told us it was the neighbors complaining bout how loud Patty and I were and asking that we "keep it down."

We totally bought it.

I'm just "paying it forward."