Gotta bounce, Ruth's Chris.

Go Bucks!

My mom and dad came up to visit us this weekend. We had a really nice time. After fixing dinner for three nights in a row, we were ready for a night out. My suggestion: the Columbus Fish Market in Worthington.

The idea of going out to eat was a mistake from the word go, because Nate did not have his afternoon nap. Unlike Aron, who, as a baby could fall asleep anywhere and stay asleep for hours on end, Nate is very sensitive about his sleeping arrangements. He wants to be in his bed, with his blankie, with his white noise machine. But I was so enamored with the idea of having a nice dinner out that I was stupidly willing to ignore what I knew could not end well.
Upon our arrival at 7:20 p.m., we learned the wait was one and a half hours. With Nate already hungry and screaming, we knew that was not going to fly. We tried quickly to choose one of the other three zillion restaurants in the area. We had passed a Ruth’s Chris Steakhouse on our way to the Fish Market. “Let’s just go there,” someone suggested. “You know it’s going to be $50 a person,” Kurt said sagely.

What were we thinking? We were hungry. We were desperate. Nate had tears streaming down his cheeks. Let’s just go.

"It's a very expensive steak house," Kurt reiterated. "It's not Applebee's. Maybe we should go to the Winking Lizard..."

Everyone was hungry and gave him a blank stare. "Fine," he shrugged, knowingly.

Ruth's Chris makes my brown eyes blue.

I hopped out of the car and walked up to a valet standing outside the restaurant. “Am I dressed OK?” I asked. He quickly looked me up and down. “Yeah, it’s pretty casual in there,” he said. I was skeptical. I was wearing a Cleveland Indians sweatshirt, faded button down jeans and the tennis shoes I wore to the farm a few weeks ago. I hadn’t really planned on a fine dining experience. The family was similarly attired.

With no wait, they ushered us in to a table. Walking through the restaurant, I failed to see the casual atmosphere as described – most of the people were at least wearing business casual, if not ties. Kurt said he saw some people in jeans and T-shirts, but I must have missed them.

Nate was at about DEFCON four on the melt-down scale of five, with five being uncontrollable, inconsolable screaming. I plopped him in his high chair and started shoveling the baby food in. But no amount of food was going to appease him; he wanted to go to bed. NOW. Everyone else at the table began to peruse the menu. I could tell it was bad, because everyone was quiet.

I took a moment to look at the offerings while Nate squirmed to grab my menu. No problem: steaks ranging from $30 something to $20 something. OK. And $7.50 for a baked potato. And $8.25 for a side salad. And $6.50 for buttered broccoli. And NO kid’s menu.

I am not a cheap person, really, I am not. But, COME ON, you could buy enough broccoli for an army for $6.50. If I’m going to pay $30 for a steak, couldn’t they just throw in the side dish for free? Lie to me, you know? At least let me think I’m getting it for free, even if the price is part of the meal. Kurt and I ate with Jim and Karen at Smith & Wollensky about a year ago and endured similar circumstances -- $8 for a wedge of iceberg lettuce drizzled with salad dressing. I mean, geez, for $8 they could at least cut it up, you know?

Today, 7-month-old boy starts crawling. Tomorrow, he takes over the world.

Anyway, the failure to plan this excursion out became apparent immediately … we were about to pay more than $200 for a meal that we would not get to enjoy because of a screaming baby.

Since this wasn't exactly a family establishment, I whisked Nate to (gag) the bathroom to nurse him. Let's see -- marble tile, complimentary mouthwash and hairspray and ... no freakin' changing table or place for me to sit and nurse. And, arrgh! I have to use the facilities! No problem, Nate indicated, as he freely crawled across the bathroom floor while I tried to hurry. I practically bathed him in the sink before we left.

Back at the table, he whimpered, arched his back and let me know that DEFCON five was imminent.

“We can’t eat here, y’all,” I said. “The baby is about to lose it and we are going to pay a ton of money for this meal – we'd need two hours to eat it, and there is no WAY this kid is going to last five more minutes. And they have nothing for Aron to eat. I feel like a real jerk, but we have to go.”

Everyone swiftly agreed. Dad paid the $16 for the drinks we had ordered and left our waiter a $10 tip – we felt really, really bad for taking up his table and wasting his time.

Since we had to carpool, mom and Kurt rode back in our car – and Nate screamed the whole way home (25 minutes). Together in my dad’s car, my dad and I laughed our butts off. Man, we must have looked like a bunch of country bumpkins who rolled into the big burg for a meal then got sticker shock when we sat down to eat.

Told you I had to bounce! In my Jumpster, that is.

On the way home we picked up six Chipotle burritos and a kid’s meal from Burger King in Dublin. We put Nate to bed, and sat down at home with two pitchers of Margaritas. The price? About $40. The moral? When Kurt speaks, listen.