We really thought we’d cracked it
A family meal out. At a proper restaurant. Not a takeaway eaten in the car, not chicken nuggets in front of the telly — a real sit-down dinner at an Indian restaurant. The kind of place where you get proper napkins and fancy plates.
The kids were buzzing. Our 7-year-old was apparently ready to actually try curry, but not with rice, our 10-year-old had decided he was old enough to try something “grown-up” (cue all the questions about spice levels), and even our youngest seemed delighted just to be there — waving at strangers and banging a spoon off the table.
Things started well. Drinks were ordered without any major spillages. Our youngest munched on a poppadom like a tiny food critic, and my partner and I even had five minutes of conversation that didn’t involve changing nappies or Pokémon. I started to relax.
Then the food arrived.
Our youngest ate just fine. But she was overtired, and nothing ruins a chicken curry quite like a whingey one-year-old who wants to be held, then not held, then held again, then definitely not. Every spoonful came with a side of increasingly dramatic sighs and grumbles. She was slowly turning into a wet flannel with a high-pitched whine.
Our 7-year-old poked her food suspiciously and then proceeded to eat one chip every 45 seconds, as if performing for an audience. After a single bite of her actual meal, she pulled a face as if she were eating a sour sweet. But she got there in the end and did eventually manage to finish her food.
Meanwhile, our 10-year-old, who had specifically chosen a butter chicken because he likes the butter chicken we have at home, took one bite and just… crumbled. Eyes welled up. Lower lip started to wobble. “I don’t like it,” he whispered. “I can’t eat it.” He pushed the plate away and sat silently, tears rolling down his cheeks like a tragic movie character whose dreams had just died in a pool of chicken curry.
So there we were: a whinging baby stuck to my partner’s hip, a 7 year old slowly dissecting her chips like a bored scientist, and a 10 year old silently weeping into his napkin. We tried to juggle spoon feeding, damage control, and emotional pep talks, all while pretending we hadn’t just paid good money for a meal no one was going to eat.
We paid quickly, and made a dash for home. The car ride was more silent than a silent movie.
So next time we feel brave enough for a meal out, remind me of the Great Curry Catastrophe of May 2025. And maybe just let me order in and microwave some naan while they eat toast in their pyjamas. Everybody wins
Xx
NikkiEverAfter1923 
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