We're now banned from the family restaurant at Black River Falls.
Other than the banning incident, we had a decent holiday trip. Jake and I woke up to a sunny Christmas morning free of any snow or sleet or ice (well, except all of the stuff lying around on the ground). We packed up the kids and ourselves and headed out to the twin cities. When we got to Eau Claire, it was time for the kids to eat and we tried in vain to find something that was open. Everything was closed. We soldiered on, and eventually came to a truck stop attached to a Burger King. Sounds kind of awful, especially if you don't eat burgers, but actually it was just fine. They had high chairs! And the restroom had a changing table! And the kids ate lots of food for lunch, and I enjoyed my mid-day caffeine treat, and there were other families with babies there, cute, friendly babies. Nora and Milo had a blast. Once back in the car they slept, and we eventually made our way to Jake's brother's house.
Jake's brother and wife and parents spent about an hour with us before they took off to go to somebody else's house for dinner, leaving us all alone on Christmas. Fortunately, I had packed a dinner for us in the cooler, so after we fed the kids and put them down, Jake and I had a simple dinner than ended with a couple of clementines. We then had the rest of the night to ourselves, because his family didn't return until after we'd gone to bed (despite it being, you know, Christmas and everything). So we used that time to do something that families without televisions always do when they find themselves in the presence of a television: we watched old reruns on tv, like the Cosby Show and Star Trek.
The television, by the way, mesmerized the kids. It was on a lot when we were there and Nora and Milo sort of turned into zombies when they watched it. It was a strange thing to behold.
Anyway, the kids had a blast the next day. There were stairs to climb and toys to play with and cats to chase and a bunny to pet, and a pool table to play on. Milo loved the pool table, because it had so many balls, which is Milo's favorite word. So his grandpa set him on the pool table and Milo played with all the balls, constantly saying "Ball! Ball! Ball!" Meanwhile Nora was over in the corner playing in the cat's water dish.
Jake's brother has the kind of house where the Christmas tree is all coordinated. All of the lights on it were white, and all of the ornaments were white. No handmade ornaments from 1st grade, just pristine white balls, icycles, and snowflakes. It sat adjacent to the enormous flat-screen television that dominated the room. Under the television were many fancy electronic doodads and gizmos, and nearby was the slate coffee table (think sharp edges) with fancy glass figurines. You get the picture. It's not the kind of house for kids. I could see Jake's brother wincing every time either kid approached, well, anything. Of course, with so many buttons to push and figurines to topple over, the kids were in seventh heaven.
Today we headed on home, happy that we'd be able to stop at a place better than Burger King. Which led to our Black River Falls disgrace. We saw a sign for a "family restaurant" coming up, and figured that'd be the perfect place to stop. It's a family restaurant, that means a place for people like us, right? A place that will have high chairs and a kid's menu. A place where the wait staff won't necessarily wince when they see us come through the door. Instead we found a dilapidated building, a grungy restaurant, and a faint aroma of cigarette smoke lingering in the air. Nevertheless, we plunged forward, ordering our lunches and trying to feed two very wiggly, squirmy babies who were much more interested in watching the video slot machines behind them than, say, eating their peas and brown rice.
That's when Milo started crying out of the blue for no apparent reason. I thought "hmmm, the last time he cried like this was right before he threw up all over the kitchen floor that one time..." and that's when Milo threw up all over the carpeted restaurant floor. And his pants. And his shoes. And my pants. And my shoes. Then he threw up some more. The foursome next to us immediately got up and left. The grimacing waitress brought our to-go boxes without needing to be asked, and handed me a wet, dirty rag to try to wipe up some of the mess. I apologized profusely while attempting to clean up Milo. We threw our uneaten lunch in the boxes, paid our bill, and hightailed it out of there to change Milo on the front seat of the car, trying to shield his naked legs from the rain. At least it was 40 degrees and not 4 degrees.
At least he didn't throw up in his car seat.
We won't be returning to Black River Falls. And next year, I think we'll stay home for Christmas.
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