I was surprised and a little alarmed when I overheard a conversation between Bobby and Dwight.
“You mean I can ask them to cook me anything I want and they serve me all the food I want?” Bobby asked Dwight.
“Not quite,” she replied, “they have a menu that lists the food they’ll cook and you order something from the menu.”
Bobby contemplated this idea for some time before saying, “I think I like restaurants. It seems like a very good place for a bear. I can sit and wait for lots of food to wonder by.”
Grot boy and I had been talking about where we would go for dinner for our anniversary and hadn’t realised the bears had been listening. I wasn;t keen to take them with us, but when I told grot boy about Bobby and Dwight’s conversation he was convinced, “We can’t leave them at home,” he told me “it will be a very special occasion for them.”
Seated at our table, the waiter asked what we would like to drink. Dwight ordered a glass of French champagne but the waiter wasn’t pleased, “I think, young lady, you are a little too young for champagne.” Dwight was very disappointed, she knew that champagne was a sophisticated drink and she didn’t want anything else. To avoid tears, I whispered into Dwight’s ear, “Don’t worry, I’ll order the champagne and give it to you, the waiter is just concerned about serving alcohol to an underage bear.”
When the waiter asked Bobby what he would like to drink, we had another problem. “I would like a hot chocolate,” said Bobby. We noticed the waiter raise his eyebrow a little before inquiring politely, “Would that be before dinner, sir?” Bobby’s response caused even more eyebrow raising, “Yes, please,” Bobby replied “and I’ll have one after dinner too, if I may.”
Settling down with our drinks, the next hurdle was ordering our food. Grot boy was challenged by the menu and kept asking questions, “What is an amuse bouche? Do I like asperges? Is it safe to eat poisson?”
When the waiter came to take our order grot boy muddled through, pointing at the menu, having given up on trying to pronounce the French terms. Then it came Bobby’s turn to order. Emulating grot boy, he placed his paw on the menu under the heading “deserts”.
The waiter looked first at me, then grot boy, expecting we would put a stop to such reckless behaviour. But we both shrugged our shoulders and said, “We told them they could order anything they liked. Next time, we’ll have to be a little more careful!”
© teddybearlife.com, 2013