There are these graces that come with Down Syndrome that are kind of a benefit of a slower paced life. For example, since Addison doesn’t yet walk I can take him places and know exactly where he is at all times. We all know restaurants are actually large rooms with lots of chairs and tables disguised as torture chambers. Ever get a child to eat all that expensive food you just ordered? Or not spill? Or not run around and slap other customers? Or not crawl under the table to eat that French Fry that just fell on the dirty carpet beneath your feet?

On the other hand, my little guy is pretty easy at restaurants. I still avoid them, but having someone cook for me is an "extra" I need once and awhile in this single parenting orb. There never seems to be a moment when it all stops spinning. But at a restaurant - as long as there’s a play area for my older child - the world stops spinning for an hour or so. If we can find a high chair that Addison won’t slip out of, I can nice men and women bring me things for a change.1

I bring along some sort of green mush that is Addison’s food. He’s got so many allergies and such a tender tummy, we don’t risk letting him eating strange and exotic things like pasta or crispy tortilla chips. He’s content with his mush and the other day we ventured into the wild side by letting him eat creme bruleé.

I ate three. We both asked for more.2

 


1. High chairs in restaurants will often be wooden and made by a guy with a workshop down the road in Costa Rica. You can even buy them on the side of the road. Beware when using them, they are tricky little buggers.
2. The last photo is sign language for: more. The sign is actually those chubby little fingers coming together and touching tips. He was a bit off here, but we knew what he meant. MORE!