Last week the Babykins family was living in a hotel. As a result, we spent a lot of time eating at restaurants. Luckily for us, Babykins is a restaurant champ. She colors. She plays with her toys. She takes us for walks around the restaurant. She even (occasionally) eats some food.
Wednesday night we went to Bubba Gump's to take advantage of the outdoor seating that is conveniently located next door to an outside bar with live music. The meal started out beautifully when the waiter brought Babykins a balloon (are all of the experienced parents out there cringing, yet?). She loved it. She bopped it on my head. She shook it back a forth. I'm pretty sure I even saw her lick it. Score!
When I tried to tie the balloon on to her chair, Babykins held out her hand and said - rather sternly - "No, Mama, stop!" I explained that if she let go it would float to the ceiling and we wouldn't be able to get it back. To which she replied, "Babykins hold it!" So I reminded her to hold on tight and went back to eating my dinner.
Much to my surprise, 10 minutes later Babykins still had a firm grip on the balloon string. I was just starting to relax when Babykins leaned over the table to grab a crayon and start coloring. I watched in dismay as the balloon slipped from her grasp.
The tears came fast and heavy, but our waiter had the solution. Within moments he was back at our table with another balloon. An identical balloon. But it wasn't the same.
Babykins just continued to cry and pointed at the ceiling, insisting she wanted the "nother balloon." I was ready to turn this into a life lesson kind of moment when our waiter came out of nowhere with a bar stool and another very tall waiter in tow.
He placed the bar stool under the balloon, made the other waiter climb on, and when the combined height still wasn't enough to reach the balloon, encouraged the waiter on the chair with, "Come on man, be a hero. Jump!" When that still didn't work, he disappeared for a moment and returned with a ruler and a broom. Each had a healthy dose of tape wrapped around the end. The taller waiter was once again forced onto the slightly un-stable bar stool, this time with sticky implements in hand, and, as the whole section of the restaurant watched, he rescued Babykins' balloon.
It was an amazing act of chivalry by the waitstaff. And it is the reason I worry that Babykins will one day have all of the boys in school doing her homework for her. Her application to the convent is filled out and ready to mail.
(And yes, we left that waiter a ridiculously large tip.)
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