The Great Taco Trauma

The local Qdoba has probably come to dread our arrival every Tuesday. Whether it is just me and the kids or a couple dozen of our closest friends we descend on the restaurant and make our presence known. Swarming in we take over half the joint and then turn our toddlers loose to run in circles until we can feed them. Right when the hullabaloo reaches a fever pitch we leave en mass to send everyone off to nap-time.

Since yesterday was once again Taco Tuesday we headed to the restaurant, this time with Aunt Tara and Liam. They had already gone through the line by the time we arrived so I sent Justus and Thalia over to sit with them while I got our food. The line was miraculously short and I was next up to order. Justus had climbed up on a chair to dance along to the music. I smiled, applauded his dancing and was just getting ready to say, “Now please sit down,” when I saw it happening as if in slow motion. The chair rocked to the beat and started to tip forward. Before I could move, the chair had fallen over backwards and Justus with it. 

Because I watched him fall I could tell that he was uninjured; he’d landed on his hands and knees first. But that didn’t keep him from screaming bloody murder. This in turn terrified his sister who also began shrieking. Tara had already scooped up Justus by the time I reached the table. She handed him off to me and took Thalia out of her seat to comfort her. The manager, a wonderful human being who has helped me out before, rushed over with a juice box and a cookie. He offered both to Justus who took the juice with a teary, “Thank you.”

Then a kindly police officer came over and asked, “Is there anything I can do to help? I have a sticker!”
“Justus, would you like a sticker?” I asked.
sniff, sniff “No, thaaaank youuu.” sniff
“See Justus? I told you police men are there to help us. He came to help you.”
sniff “Thank youuuu.”

Apparently juice is the great panacea when you’re two. Justus stopped crying and we were able to salvage the rest of our lunchtime. Liam watched the entire incident unfold, completely unfazed by all the drama. Instead he sat eating his quesdilla like popcorn at the movies.

After lunch Liam was cleaning the table and almost tumbled off the exact same wobbly chair, saved only by his mother’s fast reflexes. If they don’t at least roll their eyes when we walk in next week they are the most patient restaurant employees on the planet.

No worse for the wear
I’m a survivor!

2 thoughts on “The Great Taco Trauma”

  1. Aw, poor Justus! I’m glad he wasn’t physically hurt, even if he took an emotional beating. :o)

  2. I know the feeling. Patient people are awesome. It is dreadful to get nasty looks or rolling eyes. BTW, my kids tipped over the Wal Mart shopping cart once.

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