Eating out

Very odd experience eating out tonight. We ate out at a restaurant tonight, and the girl behaved exquisitely. It was the best she'd behaved at a restaurant in essentially two years. Last time she did this she wasn't walking yet or eating solid food, and was spent the whole time attached to one of us in a sling.

We sat down, and she patiently put up with L and I talking adult things (business, childcare, etc) while she did a little bit of drawing. She happily ate all of her appetiser while we waited like 20 minutes for the mains to come out. Every moment I got more and more nervous she'd break down and run away. But she just sat there, occasionally asking for more water or help with the pen. When the mains finally arrived, she ate it. With a fork. A real full-sized fork. Admittedly she needed help with about 40% of the meal, and the first half of the meal I had to blow on the stuff to cool it down enough (surprisingly hot for a children's meal). But she sat there patiently thought the entire meal. Only when we left the place and were safely in the tube station on the way home did I turn to her and tell her proud of her I was for behaving so well. I felt if I even alluded to it in passing, even to L when the girl wasn't looking, I'd ruin it and she'd cause a ruckus.

I'm still a bit shocked. I have two theories as to how this happened. The first one is that we went to a museum beforehand to see Club to Catwalk at the V&A before it closed down. The girl enjoyed running about the place, climbing stairs, watching the video installations, and (outside the exhibit) pointing out the bottoms and crotches on all the statues. It's one of the very few times we've had an opportunity to get her a bit of activity in after her nap and before dinner. If this is what happens when she gets some exercise after her nap, I am damn well going to find some way to get her some bloody exercise before dinner more regularly. Even if that is my most exhausted and useless time of the day.

My other theory is more pessimistic. Every time she starts behaving well for me she gets a fever 3 or 4 days later. The only time I ever got her to fall asleep while reading to her (what I thought was a great triumph at the time) turns out to be just before she came down with a cold. Likewise the time I thought she finally got the rules of walking on city streets in her head and started to hold my hand when we were walking together, she again got sick a few days later. Dashing my hopes we'd won the behaviour battle. I really hope an incoming illness was not the cause of the good behaviour at dinner and that it was something that can be cured with a decent application of running around.

Random chatting fathers

The other day I was taking the train home with the girl. She didn't want to be in the sling much that day, so she did most of her own walking and, on the train, she sat in her own seat, opposite me. Despite, or because, it being the two of us in a pair of bench seats for 5, no one sat in the other 3 seats, even though it was rush hour.

At the first stop, a man carrying an 18 month old boy in a sling got on the train, and immediately decided that this would be a good place to sit. We quickly got to talking, mostly because the girl started saying Bæ bæ bæ over and over as soon as she saw the baby in his arms.

It was nice finding a kindred spirit to share the ride home. He'd spent his afternoon with his son at the Museum of Childhood. I'd spent the afternoon with the girl at the Museum of London. He extracted his lad from his sling and plunked him down next to the girl. Despite being practically the same age (she's 19 months old), there was a marked difference between them. He was bigger than her, but quite shy. She was quite interested and babbling to him, with the occasional pointing or poking. He sat there looking a bit tired and droopey eyed barely registering her, while we exchanged stories about what each museum does well and what other good places we've taken our kids lately.

I'd never done that before – meeting a fellow father and just gabbing away about fun things to do with children. I mean, I do that with friends all the time, but it's the total stranger part that's new to me. Usually with complete strangers it's What a cute baby or other suchness about the child. I suppose what I liked about this is it was about parenting. Not how the baby looks or what they do, but here's some fun things you can do while being a part of their life.

Earlier that day, in the museum, I spent the bulk of my time just following the girl around as she walked from exhibit to exhibit, looking under the tables, walking circles around models in glass cases, taking guides and handing them to bemused staff and pointing to a taxidermied rabbit and saying Cat!

One of my favourite parts was in the 18^th century section where they have artefacts about half a foot under the floor covered clear glass, so you can look down and see various bits and pieces of daily life from back then. It's sturdy glass, so you can walk over it too.

So I did. I, in clear view of the girl, walked on this glass, at a slow pace so she'd see what I was doing, but without breaking my stride. I always walk on glass bridges whenever I can, because it feels so wrong and so mundane at the same time. The girl followed, but with very hesitant steps. The first step onto the glass was in complete disbelief that it was possible to do this. Each subsequent step clearly said It feels solid, but all my instincts say that can't be. She never quite got comfortable walking on the glass, but at least she started getting use to the fact that it was evidently possible to do so. Every step was measured and slow, and stepping back onto opaque land was as hesitant as stepping onto the glass had been.

I consider this one of my jobs as parent. To dash her world view. To show her how her instincts can be plain wrong. I'm kind of hoping it will just give her a better class of instincts when she's older.