Dinner Out

This weekend we decided to try a dinner out with the kids. A half hour before our reservation, I was wondering why. 

Getting three kids ready to go anywhere is a challenge and dressing them for dinner is even harder. For ten minutes I tried to convince my son to wear a polo. He was set on tie dye. Finally, we settled on a Batman shirt and I moved on. Thankfully, my oldest was easier, throwing on a clean shirt and jeans. And then the toddler entered fully dressed. In about ten outfits layered on top of one another.

“I’m ready!” she proclaimed.

I looked at her and breathed in deep. Most of the time I let her choose her outfits, but tonight I wanted her to wear the dress I’d laid out on my bed.

And so I tried. “That looks nice, Sweetie,” I said, “but I was thinking tonight you could wear this pretty dress!”

She scowled. “No! I look beautiful!”

“Of course you look beautiful,” I said. “But this will be more comfortable!”

She shook her head. “No!”

For another five minutes I tried, unsuccessfully, to convince her. Exasperated, I looked at the clock. It was time to leave and I still wasn’t dressed.

“Fine,” I said. “Just wear it”

With the clock ticking, I bolted to my closet. Five minutes before our reservation, I ran down the stairs.

“Everyone ready?” I asked.

Everyone nodded. Except the toddler.

“Where’s Willa?” I asked.

“One more minute,” she yelled from upstairs.

With a groan, I ran back up. And there I found her in the hall, struggling to put on the dress I’d laid on my bed.

“What are you doing, honey?” I asked.

She smiled. “I wanted to look beautiful for you.” 

I smiled back. Then I scooped her up and covered her in kisses, angry at myself for ever caring what she was wearing at all. And as I carried her to the car, I stopped for a moment and paused, grateful for the chance to take our kids to dinner.  Because no matter how much of myself I give to them, they always give me so much more.