The GeekSlayer

We went out to dinner last night with my father-in-law and he paid, which made it twice as yummy. It was a family steakhouse; the type where you throw peanut shells on the floor, and it was pretty packed for the dinner rush.

As is our custom, we brought along our Chicco Hippo Grip high chair. Its really lightweight and portable and fits on any table. We prefer to bring our own chair because we fully believe that every other child is dripping with goo, and we prefer not to let our kid touch the goo left behind in restaurant high chairs. Or if you prefer, think of us just keeping our baby’s goo to himself.

Anyways, this portable high chair draws lots of comments from wait staff and other moms whenever we use it in a restaurant, which is pretty often. Usually the comments are along the lines of “Oh, how clever!” Or “I wish I had one of those when my Johnny was a baby.”

A homely pimply-faced geeky waiter walked by our table with drinks loaded on a tray and paused and looked at Cartney in his seat and declared, “Wow, I’ve never seen one of those before!”

Without missing a beat, Jess said, “Its called a BABY. If you can find a girlfriend, maybe she’ll make you one.”

The waiter was stunned and shambled away. I was quite stunned, but also quite proud. I told her that comment was blogworthy.

That’s what happens when her steak comes out well done instead of medium rare like she ordered it.