Out to Lunch

I took mum out to lunch, we sat by the door of mum's favourite cafe. Personally, I think the food is ordinary, but the selection of Italian waiters more than makes up for it. We both had chicken and avocado baguettes. Mum usually waits to hear what I order and then says she'll have the same.

She'd poured her tea into her milk jug and had dropped half of her baguette onto my plate. We'd discussed going to the ATM, which means cash for me, and buying a tatslotto ticket, on my registration, there will be no doubt about whose prize it is if we ever get a winning ticket.

Two women entered the cafe with one of those over-sized prams, you know, they match the 4WD now a days, urban jungle warfare vehicles.

She manoeuvred the pram into the walkway where there was another table vacant opposite ours. She looked around, looked at me, looked at the table then looked back at her table.

She walked over to me, bent at the knees, resting her hands on her legs. "Hello." Big smile, big eyes. “Lovely day.” I have to note that there was a touch of the maniacals about her, at this point. I suspect it was too many coffees and baby rattles for her. Oh, that could be just me. But, she did give me a fair shiver down my spine.

"Hello," I said in reply. I wanted to say, said the spider to the fly, I don’t know why, but I didn’t.

"Now, if I could just get you and your delightful mother – we both look at mum who at that point drops a piece of lettuce or chicken from her mouth into her lap - to move to that table on the other side of this couple next to you that would be fantastic." Big smile and shoulder squeeze on fantastic.

"I'm sorry?" I understood all right, but I was a little taken a back. I didn’t even look around to the proposed table.

“Oh.” Big eyes. Jazz hands. "If you could just move to that table, then we'd all be able to fit." Big smile, big eyes.

"Um… No… Thanks anyway." Patronising smile. It didn’t hurt to thank her, it softened the edge of her crushing defeat.

"Oh.” Very big eye. And her face kind of pulled into its very own face lift. Quite clever really, even if the effect was somewhat alarming, may scare small children. “I don't think you understand.” Emphasis on “don’t” dotting i’s and crossing t’s sharply. “Then I could move your table over next to mine then we'd all be able to sit down and I'd be able to get the pram in next to them."

Do you believe some people. "Oh, no, I understand, I'm just not moving." Further patronising smile complete with a slight head tilt.

Smile retracts to pursed lips. Eyes flash wild. "Well, (she almost vomited the “well”) thanks for all of your help!" she spits.

What is it with mothers and kids? They think they have a god given right because they have bred? Just because they have spat something out their cunt, they think the world owes them.

I wonder how the world will change when every country goes to a one child policy? It can't be too long away.

Let me just add, there were other vacant tables in the café, plenty of them, just not by the window.