The Christmas holidays started the minute The Boss got home from work on Friday. On a whim I’d booked us a table at a local cafe for pizza – an enormous treat for us all. The minxes stayed in their party dresses from the last day of school and I even changed out of my sopping-wet jeans into a dry pair. Woo!
We arrived at opening time to an empty, pristine cafe. The minxes saw candles and Christmas crackers laid out at our table and shifted from ‘hyper’ into ‘20,000ft and climbing’. I spent the first 10 minutes trying to calm them down and press 3 little bums into 3 seats. Any seats. I don’t care. No, she doesn’t smell. No, she’s not my Favourite. Yes, you can have a cracker. Just.Sit.Down.NOW!! The waitress came over to collect our drinks order and tactfully suggested ‘a large one?’ when I asked for a glass of house red. How could I refuse?! The Boss was driving – payback for me being Nominated Driver throughout 3 loooong pregnancies over party season.
When we only had 1 or 2 minxes and my income we ate out a fair bit (we’re greedy and love our food). With 3 minxes and The Boss’s income, it’s a rare treat. But look on the bright side – trips to McDonalds and Burger King become a very big deal. (Actually, I’m not sure that’s a good thing, either). Anyway, 2 adults and 3 tearaways isn’t really conducive to savouring great food, atmosphere or alcohol. So we’re not really sure how much food to order. I mean, if you’re going to spend most of your night ferrying minx after minx to the toilet, you start choosing your restaurants by the cleanliness and availability of their loos rather than their standard of food. We settled on 4 pizzas between 5: a marguerita (Maxi), a deluxe marguerita (me – still addicted to basil), a spicy pepperoni (Midi – I think she was hoping it was really chorizo (she’d loved the paella I’d made on a stupid whim. She was the only one who ate it)) and a seafood (The Boss).
Well, what delicious pizza! I was very impressed. And the Bakewell tart for pudding was equally delicious. The minxes got a kick out of drinking fizzy water and Sprite (fizzy pop is a birthdays-and-Christmas treat) and eating pizza whilst wearing a black plastic moustache from the cracker (always my favourite as a kid, until I couldn’t bear the pain in my septum anymore). Midi ate her enormous bowl of ice-cream as well as Maxi’s, who started to fade around 7pm.
Midi got restless again towards the end and found all the gift items for sale dotted around the table irresistible. My hands were full keeping her little sticky fingers away. As I turned to pay Maxi a little attention, Midi’s elbow caught her glass and dumped water on the windowsill. I attacked it with some napkins, chastising her soundly. “But Mummy!” she wailed, “My little elbows haven’t got eyes in them, you know!” I even laughed.