The 10 Phases of Dining Out with My 3-Year-Old

As a glutton for punishment, I frequently take my three kids to restaurants where families typically don’t dine. They’re allowed, of course, but these places aren’t exactly what most people envision when they think of “family-friendly.” My delightful trio consists of a 7-year-old, a 5-year-old, and a 3-year-old, and they always arrive looking sharp—donning suit jackets, neatly combed hair, or if it’s warmer, collared shirts and khakis. I wipe their faces down with baby wipes, banish their light-up shoes, and remind them to hold the door and place their napkins on their laps. At least they look presentable. However, for my 3-year-old, the chaos begins long before we step outside.

Stage 1: Wardrobe Meltdown

He insists on wearing his Paw Patrol shirt and matching shoes. When I attempt to button him into an Oxford shirt, he flops onto the floor, writhing and howling like a wounded animal. This makes fastening the buttons nearly impossible, and I inevitably mess up at least once. Next, I have to wrestle him into a suit jacket and add a clip-on bowtie because, honestly, a 3-year-old in a bowtie is just too adorable. You might not realize it, but this can feel like a form of child torture.

Stage 2: Winning Over the Staff

He arrives holding my hand, grinning like an angel while sporting his signature fedora. The staff melts as they seat us. When the waitress asks for drink orders, he chirps, “Water, please,” and trust me, his voice could melt the iciest of hearts.

Stage 3: Ice Cube Antics

The water arrives, and because every savvy waitress knows to serve kids in to-go cups, his drink comes with a lid. This annoys him, and he quickly plunges his little hand into the nearest glass, munching on ice like it’s candy. He’ll keep this up for the duration of our meal.

Stage 4: Boredom Sets In

Once the ice is gone, he attempts to escape his chair, kick his brothers, or stab things with a fork. We confiscate the cutlery, and he swipes another fork to commence banging on the table. Defeated, I hand him my phone, hoping to enjoy a conversation with my husband that doesn’t revolve around someone’s bathroom habits. He dives into a game called The Foos, which is supposedly educational but utterly baffling to anyone over the age of 8.

Stage 5: Placing the Order

When it’s time to order, he rejects steak, chicken, fish, and any other adult fare. He’s also not interested in chicken fingers or veggies. All he wants is tater tots—preferably a double serving. Never mind that they only serve those at lunch. He’s getting tater tots because he’s wearing a fedora, and now we can only hope the chef doesn’t spit in our food.

Stage 6: Tater Tot Mayhem

The tater tots arrive, and he sets my phone aside to inhale a few. They’re hot, and he burns his tongue, resulting in an ear-splitting scream. The 7-year-old, who should know better, takes advantage of the chaos to snatch the phone. Our 3-year-old screams again, sounding like a wild animal in distress. The phone is returned after intense whisper-shouting from the adults. We dunk the tater tots in water to cool them down and hand-feed him, coaxing him to eat with the only ketchup bottle in the restaurant.

Stage 7: Brief Respite

The tater tots disappear, and the adults finally start eating. We discuss topics unrelated to children while issuing reminders that misbehavior will result in toy confiscation. But no sooner do we settle than another child throws a tantrum—unlike our 3-year-old, he’s not engaged in The Foos. An adult takes the screaming child for a stroll, hoping to avoid glares from child-free patrons.

Stage 8: Seriously?

We’ve finished our meals, yet the check hasn’t arrived. Our other child is throwing a fit because he can’t play The Foos. The previously screaming child is now doodling on his plate with a tater tot and ketchup. Meanwhile, our 3-year-old has abandoned his game to wriggle under the table. We hiss and attempt to drag him out, but he just laughs until one of his brothers touches my phone, prompting another shriek. My mind races, “Everyone is staring at us!” and my anxiety escalates.

Stage 9: The Check Finally Comes

Plates and napkins are cleared away, but our 3-year-old is reluctant to part with his napkin. We entice him with a new level of The Foos. The kids squabble over who gets to sign the credit card receipt, and in a questionable parental decision, we let the 3-year-old take a stab at it because he’s the baby. The other kids sulk loudly in protest.

Stage 10: The Car Ride

He screams as I take the phone away when I strap him into his car seat. His brother has the audacity to request it instead, and I nearly lose it. We drive home, serenaded by the wailing of an exhausted, tater-tot-filled, Foos-ed-out 3-year-old. He’s also managed to get ketchup on his suit jacket, right on the lapel, and guess who forgot the Tide stick today? I vow to my husband that we will never do this again. “What were we thinking?” I say, and we both agree—never again. Until next Friday night, of course.

In case you’re interested in more parenting insights, check out some of our other blog posts here. For those looking into home insemination, Cryobaby is a fantastic resource, and UCSF provides excellent information on pregnancy and IVF.

Summary

Dining out with a 3-year-old can be a chaotic experience filled with wardrobe struggles, ice cube antics, and endless games on the phone. From tater tot tantrums to the inevitable meltdowns, each stage of the meal is a wild adventure that leaves parents both exhausted and amused. While the vows to never repeat the experience are often made, the allure of dining out always seems to call again.