With the girls, going out to eat is always a bit challenging for me. Especially in a place like Kabuto’s. Even though Hannah and Reagan are becoming much more independent, you put them in an unfamiliar place and they’d rather sit on my lap (at the same time) than in a chair of their own.

I’m not sure how long ago, but it’s been quite awhile, maybe even last year, we were eating at Kabuto as a family. If I remember correctly, it was during a “fire show” at the Hibachi grill that one of the girls crawled into my lap. With all the up and down, in and out of my lap, things are bound to find themselves falling from the table onto the floor, or into my purse.

I usually keep my purse at my feet instead of hooked on the back of my chair because I’m a little paranoid of someone grabbing it.  And I usually keep it open for easy access. As a result, when I got home that night, I discovered a fork from the restaurant in my purse. I was too embarrassed to just take it back and say something like, “I promise I didn’t mean to steal it!”. My intent was just to sneak it back on the table the next time we ate there. I didn’t want to keep it in my purse, so I just put in our silverware drawer in a separate slot from the rest of our forks until we went back to the restaurant.

Of course,  we ate there quite a few times and I would always forget about the fork until I was eating or we had gotten back home again. The thought of mailing it back to them crossed my mind, but that seemed a bit much. So last week, my neighbor (who’s one of the best people I know, by the way) and I went to lunch together, at Kabuto, and I finally remembered to take the fork with me.

I was trying to be sneaky about it so I wouldn’t be too obvious. I also wanted to do it soon after we got there so I wouldn’t forget again. (Which was a good possibility)  I tried to hide the fork in my hand to place it back on the table. And of course, as soon as I go to put it on the table, the server walks up for our drink order. I probably looked guilty at that point, because even though I was trying to do something right, I still felt like I was doing something wrong.

Kinda like when I go to buy the real Sudafed behind the counter at the pharmacy because the meth makers had to ruin it for the rest of us. And while having to show my drivers license and give my blood type to buy a $5.00 box of sinus relief, in the back of my mind I’m wondering if people are judging me. Not that it really matters, it’s just how I feel.

Anyway, I finally succeed in putting the fork back on the table (unnoticed, I think), and then zipped up my purse so it wouldn’t happen again!!! Ah, the adventures we’d never have if not for motherhood!!