Some new restaurants have been popping up in my area. When you live in a small town like I do, that’s a big deal. One in particular is a bar that specializes in wood fire oven pizzas, small plates, and of course alcohol. We read some good reviews and thus my husband Colin and I decided to check it out. After filling ourselves to the brim with risotto balls and spicy shrimp, we left fat and happy but even still, something left a bad taste in our mouths; about one-third of the patrons brought their children.
At this point, you may be wondering if I hate children. Although no childless or childfree person should have to justify his/her decision not to have kids, I am an over-explainer by nature so I feel compelled to clarify. I don’t dislike children, I actually really love them. I work full-time with young kids. At social functions, you’ll more than likely find me kissing on babies than socializing with my peers. My decision to be childfree was always more about not wanting to become a parent than it was about not wanting to have children.
But here we are – my husband and I shaking our heads as we exit the restaurant.
“Why would parents take their kids to a bar?” Colin asks me knowing full well neither one of us is truly qualified to give an answer. In the safety of our own vehicle, we do as is human nature and judge. It’s wrong I know, I’m working on it.