When I took my son and myself to a posh restaurant, I didn’t expect to get fined for being a mom. I retaliated artistically, like any irate parent.
I never complain, but what occurred yesterday at this “upscale” restaurant? The insult went beyond. Imagine that I work hard like every other single mom. Really hard. I felt worthy of a lovely supper out with my 5-year-old son Tommy.
I was unaware that this restaurant had an unspoken policy of fining moms for being moms. We entered this posh place. The hostess gave me the “Oh great, a mom with a kid” expression immediately. I ignored it. Multiple times.
“Hi, two-person table?” I politely inquired.
She answered, “Of course,” but her tone could have been, “Good luck, honey.”
Whatever. Tommy bounced in his seat, eyes wide at the chandeliers like we were in a wonderful land, as we sat down. Five-year-olds find everything exciting. Ordered.
I gave him safe chicken nuggets and fries. He kept busy coloring the kid’s menu with those awful restaurant crayons that barely work. He hurled one across the table mid-coloring.
“Tommy,” I said, attempting to control him.
“Sorry, Mama,” he murmured with a smile that made it impossible to be upset.
Some fries followed. Perhaps a tad wild, but nothing outrageous. The venue was barely packed. I remained cool, hoping no one was looking. However, Tommy sprang up, eyes shining like he had a plan.
“Stay in your seat,” I said, but five-year-olds ignore warnings.
Grinning, he circled the table, striking the tile with his shoes. A few irritated waiters looked over. The hostress? Yes, she watched.
“Sit down, bud,” I said, but his feet slid out from beneath him before I could hold him. It was icy floor that sent him tumbling.
I wasn’t okay, but he was.
“Yes…” he mumbled, regaining his composure.
Though worried, I was furious at the floor’s unsafeness. They couldn’t keep their eatery kid-friendly, not my fault!
After settling Tommy and eating our meal, I paid the money without thinking. I was too exhausted to care about much else but getting home, watching cartoons for him, and sleeping on the couch.
Later that night, I was reading over my receipts to find out how I spent so much on a basic dinner when I noticed something. Parenting Fee was disguised under “Administrative Fee” and “Waiter Tip,” which made my fury boil.
I blinked, hoping it might disappear if I stared long enough. A fee? For what? For taking my toddler inside their cherished restaurant? For not making him sit like a robot?
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I said.
Tommy, playing on the floor, looked up. “What, Mama?”
I said, “Nothing, baby,” attempting to seem calm. But internally I was furious. I was charged because I mistreated my own child! The brazenness. I knew then I wouldn’t tolerate this.
The next morning, still angry, I had the notion. I’ll give them something to ponder about if they fine me for parenting. I used my laptop to build a stunning, family-friendly sign that resembled one of their promotions.
All Kids Are Welcome at This Café! Get 20% Off Your Bill for Families with 3 or More Kids!” I even added cute clip art of cheerful kids carrying balloons. Never would have known it wasn’t a promotion.
After printing and laminating, Tommy and I returned to the restaurant. The restaurant was full of families and brunchers. Perfect.
Tommy pulled my sleeve. “Why are we back, Mama?”
“We’re fixing something, sweetheart.”
I casually walked up to their front window and put my sign up next to their posters. It looked so natural you’d assume it belonged. I smiled and retreated.
Things became wild quickly.
Families with kids flocked in, talking about the “20% off family discount.” I sat across the street with Tommy, sipping iced coffee, watching the commotion like a hired show.
A tired mom with three kids, a stroller, and a look opened the door. “We’d like to use the family discount,” she told the frantic hostess.
“Uh… What?” The manager ran out from the rear, and the hostess looked nervously at him. There is no discount for families.
Mom looked insulted. Excuse me? Your window has a sign saying so.”
The manager became a gorgeous crimson as he looked at the notice and then at the increasing line of families reading it, conversing, expecting a deal.
“I… Not sure how that got there, but it’s fake. Sorry, the manager mumbled.
From behind, another parent said, “But it’s in your window!” “You can’t just post a sign and ignore it! False advertising!”
Longer lines and louder complaints. One dad, clutching his toddler and newborn, screamed, “So what, are you canceling the promotion?” This is ridiculous! “We came here for that!”
Manager waved arms to calm everyone. “No promotion! I swear! This is wrong!”
The waitstaff behind him struggled to keep up. Kids were running, crayons were on tables, and fries were flying. It was lovely—just what that place deserved.
Another dad advanced, arms crossed. “So you won’t honor the discount? Man, that’s awful business. Your room is filled of families awaiting a deal!”
Manager appeared ready to burst. “I don’t know who put that sign up, but we…”
“Who did?” A frowning mom stopped him. “Because you’re looking terrible.”
I laughed as I watched from my seat. Tommy smiled, not understanding why I was laughing. “Is this the plan, Mama?”
Winked at him. “Yes, baby. This is fun.”
As hours passed, more families arrived. The place was full by midafternoon, with boisterous youngsters and parents demanding the discount. The manager almost pulled his hair out as the waitstaff struggled.
Best part? The word traveled quickly about this “family-friendly spot” that hated kids.
By late afternoon, the manager went out, marched to the window, and tore down my sign. It was too late. The damage was done.
Parents inquired about the family discount for weeks. Yelp reviews were full of puzzled and angry customers regarding the promotion. The restaurant was jokingly called the “family-friendly place that didn’t want kids.”
A few weeks later, I passed the restaurant again and saw no one. The “Upscale Dining” sign had been replaced with a desperate-looking “Family Specials – Kids Eat Free!” banner, and the tables that had held families were empty.
I grinned as I passed. They now understood: don’t tamper with parents, especially single moms. Tommy held my hand and stared up at the empty restaurant. Mama, will we dine there again?
I shook my head and laughed quietly. “No, baby. Not ready for us.”
Tommy stared at the empty tables and then at me with wide eyes. “Why not, Mama?”
I clasped his hand and smirked as I sank to his level. Some places can’t handle a little fun, sweetheart.”
Tommy pulled my hand. “What’s next, Mama?”
I grinned. “Anything we want, kid. Anything we want.”
