One vacation morning this summer, John whipped out his worst restaurant manners in a long time.

I re-directed him (using the least prompting I could muster) to order his own food, ask for his own straw, help with check-out procedures, and to curtail the rowdy napkin tricks.

(Later I asked him to re-create the napkin dance for you, and here’s three photos of what we got.)

How hard can it be to just stick a napkin under a leg until you need it?  And why does it always include the topic of wieners?

We opted for a big-boy flat plate, not the bowl that is easier to corral the food.

He got up and ran around with the dang napkin, doing what I called the napkin dance.

And finally, at the end of our “performance”,  he had the natural consequence of sitting quietly for four whole minutes, earning the right to ask to be excused.

He did it.   So now I know he can do it again.

Peace be with us,

Gayle