We know a few things, in particular about fatherhood. In fact, we don't want to give away any Oscar spoilers, but we think we're in line for a World's Greatest Dad lifetime achievement award.
So today, and in the future, we'll be dishing out the fatherly advice for those wayward or future paterfamilias.
Today's edition: Eating Out.
Don't do it. Just don't. Please for the love of God do NOT go out to dinner with children. They don't belong in public, much less a nice setting like a fancy schmancy restraint.
You're better off doing anything besides going to a restaurant with small children. Order a pizza. Get Chinese takeout. Make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for dinner. Anything!
However, we realize that sometimes it's unavoidable. Friends without kids come in to town and you're terrified to tell them that you're terrified to go out to eat with your own little urchins. And then it promptly turns into a huge disaster that will convince your childless friends to get vasectomies and hysterectomies (just to be safe).
So while our best advice is "don't fucking do it" (hmmm... that sounds familiar), we'll try to minimize the damage with our normally outstanding parental advice.
Pick a proper restraunt. Don't go to some sushi bar or anything. The people that go to nice places like sushi bar don't want kids screaming, "THERE ARE NO CHICKEN NUGGETS!!!!!!!!" It's not fair to them. It's not fair to the kids.
However, you don't want to go to Chucky Cheese or anything, because that place is at once both a nightmare and a petri dish or horrible childhood diseases. I'm pretty sure if the CDC would take a swab of the bottom of that ball pit, they'd find some rare strain of ebola.
Pick an in-between place. A place where the food sucks just enough for the kids to enjoy, and is just annoying enough for you to hate: Red Robin? Perfect.
Sit outside. I don't care what the temperature is. I don't care if it's raining. Sit outside. It's better for everyone involved. I don't even care if they have outside seating. Drag a damn table out the back door and sit in the back alley if you have to.
Bring "supplies." Bring whatever it takes to shut your kids up while waiting for a table: strawberries, crackers, vodka. Whatever it takes.
Order your food the first time you see your waiter. It doesn't matter if you like what you're getting. Just spit out the first thing you read on the menu. Sure, your waiter might look puzzled when you order steamed rice for dinner, but don't let that waiter get away. At this point, it's all about speed.
Ketchup. Kids love ketchup. Doesn't matter what it's on. Get a bottle of ketchup. You could even use straight up ketchup if you forgot your supplies. Just squirt some ketchup on a plate and your kids will go fucking nuts. True, you might be sickened to the point where you won't even enjoy your meal of steamed rice, but at least the kids will be too busy shoveling ketchup into their faces to make you want to crawl under the table and die.
Get the check right away. Before you're done eating you need to get that check because as soon as the kids are done, that's when the Meltdown begins. As soon as they finish (them, not you!) it's time to leave. So you better have that ketchup and rice paid for. What? You're paying with credit card! Oh no you're not!
Cash. Pay with cash and have enough monitary variability to be able to just throw the money at your waiter and yell, "Keep the change!" as you and your children leave the resturaunt screaming.
Leave a huge fucking tip. I really pity the poor employees who have to clean up after the Supercomputer household is done. It looks like we got our food, stood up, held a plate of food in each hand, and just twirled around until we got dizzy. They deserve huge cash to clean up your shit.
So you walk out with your head held low and a bunch of kidless resturaunt goes whispering to themselves, "how embarrassing!" and "I'm soooo glad they're gone! I can't believe they brought their kids!" But hopefully, with a few of the tips we've provided, you won't purposefully drive into a river on the way home.