Dear Sir and Madame: You Are No Longer Welcome In This Fine Establishment

Baby screams. She screams when we’re out. She screams all about. She screams at home. She screams in a dome (I assume).

Husband and I can no longer stand the screaming, the incessant screaming by Miss Screamy McScreamsalot.

And now it’s come to this: we can no longer go to restaurants.

We were SPOILED by Preschooler who from day one stayed quiet and well-behaved in restaurants, even grown-up restaurants WITH NO CHILDREN’S MENUS.

Baby was ok for about eleven months. No more. By one year she started getting antsy. Then she got squirrely. And then she screamed. And screamed. And screamed some more.

And today, we found ourself at Olive Garden, a place we would’ve scorned with our pretentious asses in college, but now patronize frequently because they bring breadsticks to our table RIGHT AWAY.

And Baby, as is so often the case, started screaming. She screamed so much that the group of four seated next to us asked to be moved. Husband and I looked at each other and realized we have become those parents. The parents with that kid. The parents who apparently can’t or won’t sooth their screaming child.

The parents who should no longer bring their children to sit-down restaurants until the kids are older.

Maybe things will change when Baby is able to communicate more effectively.

Maybe things will change once she is older, and we’re better able to reason with her.

But if anyone knows how to stop the screaming, let me know. Seriously. Because I can no longer stand it.

Not in my home. Not when we roam. And if we stay in, the screaming begins. And then I cry. Seriously.