|Prior waiting at a different locale, favorite El Harissa|
PS*: ....yeah, SO. LONG!
Me (internal): Not really helpful to point it out, thanks~
Woman: WHAT are YOU going to eat!!
Me: Yes, we have been waiting a while, but it's really busy, you can see them working in the kitchen and they're also making food for people who are just coming in to pick up food~~
I make eye contact with the waitress, raise my eyebrows, and she returns my gaze. She's clearly an experienced waitress, so I feel confident she knows the questioning look likely translates into "where's our food?" Either it's just simply taking a bit, or she'll follow up. I settle in. My daughter, however, has other plans.
"Excuse me!" she pipes up in her far-reaching little girl voice. "Excuse me!" The waitress turns around and bends down to her, with a humoring a face.
"We have been waiting so long for our food that I have begun to worry you are not focusing on us." I bang my forehead on the table in an effort to hide my guffaw and the waitress also adjusts her face not to smirk. Her delivery is smooth, without pause. Well, she says, she will go check on our food. As luck would have it, the order has just come out, and our server delivers the food with a flourish:
"Here we are. Are you still worried~~?"
"No..." She dimples and eyes her meal.
"So, how old ARE you?"
"I am four," says the demanding one. Or she holds up her fingers.
"You know, you are VERY well spoken for four years old"
"I know," she says, digging into her bacon.
Following this exchange, the waitress was initially quite friendly, but then she cooled. I suspect she decided my daughter was simply parroting something I said. Had I not had *this child*, I imagine I would have come to the same conclusion. I felt embarrassed, but what can you do? This is merely the first decade of emotional hot potato -- lobbing embarrassment back and forth, all in the family.