I Love It, I Love It Not...Kids at a Bar

I'm not naive. I'm not a prude. And I'm not anti-kid, even though I'm a PWOK. I'm just an adult who chooses to sit at the bar for grown-up time.

So it's more than not wanting to have to give your a kid a compliment. Oh, how precious, Or precocious.  My nieces and nephews know their way around a menu too and can politely order their meals with please and thank you--in the dining room. It's just that I don't want to eat my meal and sip my wine to the thump-thump of your kid banging his foot against the bar or to need to censor my language after a stressful (more often than not) day at work. Moreover, I feel for the parents who have paid for babysitters so they can have a grown-up night out and end up sitting near your kids instead.

So I'm not judging you or telling you how to raise your kids. Not really anyway.

I don't go to Chuck E Cheese and expect a quiet, peaceful evening. I don't go to Chuck E Cheese at all. I know that as an adult without kids to chaperone, it's not where I belong. I wish, then, that you would understand that your kids don't belong bellied up to the bar where one is required to be twenty-one to order a drink.