The AppleBee's Incident

There comes a time in every parents life when they endure an agonizing, but (eventually) humorous episode involving their offspring. For example, many years ago Uncle D was out and about with his two youngest children when they bumped into an old acquaintance. Apparently this fellow was of considerable girth, and the little girl, thinking that maybe the man wasn't aware of his situation, quite honestly informed him that he was "fat". Fortunately, the man didn't hear what the little darling had said (denial, denial, denial) and asked Uncle D for an interpretation. Uncle D quickly stammered that she had said "what's that" or "I see a cat" or something along those lines, when his other honest, but big mouthed child, piped up and said, "Daaaaad, you're lying!" Both men walked away from the conversation flustered and red-faced, never wanting to see each other again, but, it is a very funny story.
Apparently, even I managed to mortify my parents on a couple of occasions, though in one particular incident, my father has no one to blame but himself! My father prefers to use descriptive devices when referring to various objects, as opposed to using the proper term. For example, a napkin isn't a napkin in dad's house. No. It is called a slop rag. I inherited many of dad's quirky little phrases, and sometimes that has brought me trouble. Many years ago, I went with my folks to the funeral of a family friend. I wasn't particularly close with the dearly departed, but I was extremely fond of his widow. My parents presented me to her at the tea afterward, and she drew me into her arms for a warm embrace. Wanting to offer comfort to the dear, sweet woman, I in all innocence, asked her "Why did Uncle Frank kick the bucket?" My dear old friend didn't hear my query, so with a loud and clear voice, I rephrased my question: "So why did Uncle Frank bite the dust?" At that point my father whisked me away to the buffet table to load up on dainties, as he and mother wiped tears from their eyes and did their best to contain their laughter.
A couple of weeks ago, it was my turn to play the mortified parent in an episode that has come to be known as the Apple Bee's incident. It all began when hubby and I decided to take the family out for supper. The evening was going well. We were seated quickly, the kids were behaving as well as four children confined to a small space could behave, and all in all we were enjoying our time together when Thing 1 started to make some terrible sounds, and it became evident that she was choking. I acted quickly and tried to sweep everything out of her mouth, as I ran through a mental checklist of how to give the Heimlich to a child. Thankfully, the finger sweep did the trick, and with tremendous, almost Olympian force, Thing 1 dislodged the food caught in her throat, as well as the entire contents of her stomach. I kid you not. It was as if someone had suddenly turned on a fire hose; that child could have easily launched a satellite into space with the amount of force spewing out of her mouth. Poor Banshee, the first to be deluged, began to wail that she was 'covered in puke' at the top of her voice. The boy, who will never have a career in the medical field, found himself overcome with the domino effect, and was doing his best to contain the dry heaves that were now retching his body. Since Banshee was the one doing all the screaming, hubby hurried her off to the washroom to clean her up. Unfortunately, Thing 1 wasn't finished with her amazing display of projectile vomiting, and with the raging sound of some sort of dying animal, she brought up the last of what her poor little tummy had to offer.
10 minutes later, the hubby and I, along with our pale faced, foul smelling children sheepishly exited the restaurant after leaving a generous tip for the waiting staff. When we finally got to the car, tired, spent and humiliated, hubby and I exchanged a weary look and then burst into laughter. What we had just endured was disgusting and embarrassing, and we had a car load of miserable children anxious to get home so they get be hosed off; but what else could we do but laugh and shrug our shoulders? So we drove home with the windows open, complimented Thing 1 on her aim, and we all vowed to not go back to Apple Bee's for at least a couple of years. It wasn't a perfect night, but it was most definitely a memorable one.