Now I realize that the word catastrophe is very strong. So please just trust me, I do not use it lightly. Breakfast time, to me is a very pleasant time. It's one of my favorite meals. Silly sounding eh? But really, I do love to eat. And when the food is free, it's even that much better.
Unfortunately and sadly it has become a very stressful time for me. My children have no sense of self control and cannot remain seated for more than 5 minutes. I've tried. My dh has tried. I mean, what is left? Public beatings?
So anyway, the end result is both of my children standing, wandering, climbing the backs of the chairs or playing over by the window. (The restaurant is on the top floor of the hotel, so there is a magnificent view.)
This morning my son and daughter spent nearly the greater part of the 30 minutes while we were at breakfast underneath of the table. And it seemed to me that they had royally pissed off some teenagers that sat with their mother at the table next to us. They truly made me want to smack them both for even looking at my kids with such disdain. Who did they think that they were? Not more than a few years ago, it's highly likely that they were just as bratty behaving for their own mother.
During their time under the table Eddie and Alexa both actually laid on the floor. My incessant pleas for them to get up, and even my more demanding tones for such requests went ignored. So yes, I am now the mother that allows her kids to lay all over the ground. It makes my stomach turn to think of it. Serves me right for ever thinking badly of any other parent who had a kid at some point on the floor. My ignorance truly was bliss. To not know how incredibly irritating it is (or was for them) to instruct your child to get off the floor, only for them to disobey. Kind of makes you want to kick them by their pants from here to Timbuktu.
But then that would be wrong. And I am quite certain that the same people who gave me such disapproving looks would be the first people on their cell phones to call Chile's version of child protective services.
So, following their floor time, my son got the brilliant idea of opening and closing the door to the outside patio. I'm not sure the outside temperature had yet reached 50 degrees, so it was a bit chilly when the door was opened. My stern demands for him to stop also went unnoticed. He continued until the male snobby teenager thrust his chair out from underneath of him and walked over to the door and closed it himself. Brat. I thought. I hope you trip.
When my children felt that their floor time was complete, and door opening and closing no longer felt "fun" they moved on to musical chairs. While I gulped down my scrambled eggs, my sweet Alexa climbed the back of my chair, to get to the side arm of hers, to stand on her seat only to grab a tiny bite of the food I had cut up for her. Eddie just jumped on the back of my chair and stood for a bit.
I don't remember why I had to stand up, but I did. While I turned around I noticed the partition. In between some of the tables in the restaurant there is this 4 foot tall (roughly estimating)wood partition. On top of the wood are some short brass cylinders that hold up a rectangular frosted piece of glass. Looking at this partition I happened to notice that it wasn't quite right. In fact, it was in a state of movement. It was falling. Towards the floor, towards the other glass topped table nicely set with fine Chilean dishware. My body moved at speeds only reserved for Olympic athletes. I jumped towards the falling wood and grabbed it. To my utter surprise and complete relief, I actually caught it. I have never been more happy for a save than this one. I looked up to see who might have witnessed this as it occurred. A cute young waiter smiled at me. I couldn't think nor stand to be there for one minute more. I grabbed my children and scurried to the elevator.