I’m going to go ahead and assume that when parents takes their child to Giggles n’ Hugs: the Only Children’s Restaurant they mean to have a dinner out that involves in no way asking their child to stop bothering the people in the booth behind them, or demanding that their child stop screaming in a public place, or stopping their child from launching spaghetti across the table. I’m going to go ahead and assume that the floor is covered with crushed Cheerios and carrot sticks and bits of throw-up. I’m going to go ahead and assume that they’ve never been able to get rid of that far-away smell of dirty diapers.
I sure hope they’re not booked in April, because my anniversary is coming up, and nothing says “romance” like Giggles n’ Hugs: The Only Children’s Restaurant.
Bon Appetite,
gretch
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