It’s Friday night, Daddy’s away and it’s been a hell of a week. Lets go out for a girls dinner. Sounds like a great idea, right? Me, the two Shorties, a nice meal, no dishes. What could be bad about this? Rather than explain, I’ll just share the riveting dinner conversation…

Me: Okay – what do you guys want to order? Pizza, pasta. Great. Done. And juice to drink. Cool.

A moment of calm after the order is placed. Hmm, this could be quite nice.

Three seconds elapse.

Shorty #2 begins to blow bubbles in her drink

Shorty #1 takes away her straw.

#2: Ahhhhhhhhh. My stwaw.

She then pinches #1.

#1: Waaaaahhhhh (crying)!!!!! That hurt. MOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!!

#2: Waaaahhhhhhh (also crying)!!!!

Me: Keep your hands on your own body, we don’t hurt each other. #2!! No blowing bubbles, that’s rude. #1 don’t boss your little sister around so much.

By now, the hipsters two tables over are eye-rolling so hard, I can hear their corneas scraping along their eyelids.

#2 burps loudly.

#1: That’s not ok, you shouldn’t burp at the table.

A moment of calm, so we pull out toys to pass the time. #1 has a pile of Barbies that were in some dramatic play where people were falling off cliffs and miraculously rising from the dead. Note to self to monitor her Netflix watching even more closely. #2 has a couple of cars, one of which is now hovering over her juice. Crisis averted the car is now back on the table. Just then #2 inadvertently leans on #1 and she FREAKS out.

#1: Arggghh – quit touching me!!!!

Now #2 is sliding off the banquet.

Me: Where are you going:

She grunts.

#2: I poo.

Stand up diaper change takes place in the change table-less bathroom while #1 holds the fort. Luckily the food is on the table when we get back and there’s a moment of serenity and we actually start to each talk about our day…. For about 35 seconds.

#2: Mo pizza.

#1: I want some of that pizza.

#2 (or maybe #1, I think I’ve blocked it out): What’s for dessert?

#1: I just farted.

Me: Um, cheque please.

Maybe we’ll stay home next time….