Small children in restaurants

Have you ever been working a crazy shift where your cortisol levels were up there in Top Gun mode and you were balancing twelve theoretical plates on top of  twelve metaphorical sticks while walking a tightrope of hypothetical fire and you go to a table with a minute window in which to take their order, only to have everything skid to a screeching halt while some snotnosed child is given the opportunity to 'tell the nice lady/gentlemen what you want, honey'? Time slows down. Everything stops. You glance anxiously around at your 19 other tables that need drinks, their check, napkins, dessert, ice, more lemons for their ghetto lemonade and of course, more  ranch dressing. The clock is ticking and everyone's attention is directed to this kid, this little tyrant who won't take his eyes off his Gameboy (I'm calling them Gameboys forever, I don't care. DSi, DsLite, PsP whatever.They will always be Gameboys) and rather than stepping into the role of 'The Decider' the inept parent will make you wait, internally chronicling the 92 things you could be doing while this benumbed and distracted child mumbles something inaudible or giggles and bangs his head on the table. This is the sound of money going down the drain:
"What do you want to eat Billy?"

He'll have the mahi mahi

"*mumble mumble*"
"Do you want a corn dog?"
"Macaroni!"
"They don't have macaroni, honey."
"MACARONI!"
"Do you want pizza?"
"Macaroni pizza!"
"Get off the floor Billy. Do you want a burger?"
"I like Pokemon!"
"How about a burger? Get him a burger."
"I want ice cream.I want ice cream!Ice cream!"
Harried server: "It comes with one side item. Which would you like?"
"MACARONI!"
And so on.

When did adults decide that being in charge was too much hassle? Do these people let the kids decide what time they want to go to bed (never) and what they wear to school ( Darth Vader helmet and pajamas) or if they would rather go outside and play or stay in and play XBox (why play football when you can play Madden 11)? I hope not, but they actually might. A kid that still hides under the table at restaurants is not sophisticated enough to make dietary decisions for himself.

I blame Charles Dickens. Yup. Before his cornball little stories, children had a position on the social scale above farm animals but firmly beneath adults. Any adults, not just their parents. People had kids because they were organic sources of free labor who took care of you in your old age. They were quiet and respectful and were content with a cup and ball or a hoop. They got to run around and play until they were about eight years old before they were forced into a  life of hard labor that was mercifully cut short by diphtheria. Then Dickens laid a colossal guilt trip on everyone with that Christmas Carol and Little Nell business. Fast forward to 150 years later and the little bastards are running the show.This is a classic case of the lunatics taking over the asylum.