Photo by Diane Arbus

Keep them at HOME where they belong!

The saying, "Children should be seen, not heard," is pushing it as far as I'm concerned. This cliché should be rewritten immediately to read as the following: "Children should be neither seen nor heard."

Especially in restaurants.

A full restaurant is an indication of two things: 1) a thriving economy and 2) good food. People who work hard all day do not want to come home and cut up radishes, fry dead animals and bother with the dreadful task known as washing dishes. They want to be able to follow their culinary whims. "Should it be Mexican tonight, or perhaps Ethiopian?" One such busy, tired person might be known to ponder aloud as he heads out the door.

This person goes out, relaxed, ready for a lovely, leisurely meal with good, efficient service.

And then he finds out what it really means to go out in public in a society such as ours.

Babies. Unruly children with parents who either don't care or are so unfit to be in this position that they cannot control their children's actions.

The table behind has a wailing toddler who is upset that his complimentary blue crayon snapped in two. "We'll get you another one, honey," coos the dingbat mother, trying to placate the horrid beast. Why would anyone do such a thing? "Shut up, you cretin!" is the proper response to such a display. The kid should be happy he got a damn crayon at all. He should be happy that the restaurant had the presence of mind to at least attempt to come up with something (perhaps a "theme" placemat, with jejune characters representing different food products, such as Wild Bill Burger and Chopstick Charlie the Chinese Chicken, pleading with the child to "connect the dots," "Help Wild Bill Find His Bun," and, of course, not forget dessert) to keep him shut up before his food comes.

Over in the corner is a fat, awkward little girl who is pompously displaying her ballet techniques to anyone who will watch. She's wearing one of those horrible pre-coordinated children's outfits sold at lower-quality department stores, depicting a Disney-esque character (the parents were too cheap to buy the actual thing). She probably collects plastic ponies. She probably smells like pee. Now, other than the fact that the bloated lass is getting in the way of harried waitstaff who are carrying trays stacked with boiling hot food (perhaps if we're lucky the child will be perfecting a move just as a waiter walks past with a plate of nachos and he will end her career as a dancer REALLY QUICKLY), it is perfectly obvious to anyone watching the display that she will never amount to anything in the world of dance. Just look at those pudgy ankles and that fat little gut! Her mother should gently pull her aside, tell her that she is making an ass of herself and to aspire to something more easily attainable, such as barmaid or thrift store attendant.

And then it happens, the most annoying experience involved in public dining. A baby starts in, screaming inconsolably at the top of its lungs for no reason at all. Was its formula rotten? Did it doo doo its didee? Who cares! Adults should not have to have their hearing damaged by the incompetence of infants. If babies could talk we wouldn't have to put up with this business, but they can't. They should be kept home where only their parents have to hear these noises. When a baby does this once, it is acceptable, for people are sure the parents will get the wailing beast under control. After two or three times, every patron of the restaurant should be given the chance to take a blow horn (happily supplied by the restaurant) and set it off next to the baby's ear to let it know what it just subjected everyone to. And then the parents should have their rights revoked. They failed the first test of parenthood: knowing when to take the creature away to avoid pissing people off.

It's not fair, is it? Why should we have to leave restaurants more stressed out than when we came in? Restaurants are supposed to be relaxing places to unwind and visit. They are not meant to be makeshift daycare centers, show-and-tell galleries or talent shows.

Then, it's not necessarily fair to parents to create segregated "children allowed" and "no children allowed" restaurants. Actually, that's not fair to anybody! Could you imagine how horrible it would be to work in one of the "children allowed" restaurants? Things flying, tantrums, weird odors reminiscent of toilets, forgotten toys, food mashed into unreachable grooves around the room.

With all other options exhausted, there is only one solution to this problem: children should not be allowed in restaurants. The acceptable age for admittance should be 21. Anyone younger will either a) fall into one of the above categories or b) try to buy alcohol when they KNOW they aren't allowed to. Parents should be forced to hire baby sitters when they go out to eat or they should just stay home.

Our mental and physical health depends on it.