True Life Stay-At-Home Confessional

The lighting was soft, barely reaching the centuries-old walls surrounding us.  Dressed in celebratory frock, we sat around a properly and politely set table. A waiter respectfully  addressed us, sharing the wine list and specials for the evening. Our water goblets were filled, spirits were sampled and gourmet food was placed perfectly in front of us.  We knew that some of Chester County's finest dined here, and we were among high class that night, if only for an evening.

And then we asked for a highchair.

JIGGAWHAT?!?

That's right...

I took my 6 month old to a 5-star restaurant.

The waiter did a double-take at our request.  He smirked and replied, "I'm sorry, we do not have highchairs here."

I was instantly embarrassed.

Yes, folks.  I crossed the inappropriate line of class and brought a baby - a burping, crying, pooping baby - to a high class establishment.

And she did all of those things.

They were less than impressed.

How were we to know?  There is no sign on the door "No Shirt, No Shoes, Have a Baby?  No Service."  This was a first for me, here.  

The thought of it actually angers me slightly.  When did babies become burden's to society?  I'm sorry that the sound of my baby's voice makes you gag a little as you properly and politely eat your Chateaubriand.  I'm sure gulping down a $500 bottle of wine will make you forget, don't worry.  We were all babies once, too.  They are beautiful beings, not some THING to look down upon.

So I take it back.  I'm not embarrassed that I brought my beautiful baby girl to your establishment, Dilworthtown Inn.  Even high class socialites have young ones that might need the services of such things as, say, a high chair.  

PS - check your carpet.  I think my baby might have spit up some peaches on her way out...