I am originally from New Orleans. Pre-Katrina my family owned a bar in the French Quarter. The boys were very young.. all three were under 4 years old. It was daytime. We were in said bar visiting with several of my family members. ( Yes, my kids were wandering/ running around the bar, but I have a huge family and everyone was playing with them and watching as we only visit a few times per year).
Seven and I each had a cocktail in hand. I turned away from video poker just in time to see Number One walk out of the bar onto Decatur Street. I hoisted myself off of my gambling stool and followed him outside. Explained that he couldn’t leave the “inside” (which, in his defense, was a little confusing as the whole place was wide open on a corner) and walked him back inside.
While I was parenting, some derelict took my video poker machine which left me no choice but to belly up to the bar. A few minutes later that little knucklehead went outside AGAIN. I followed him and proceeded to say calmly and softly.. ” YOU GET BACK IN THAT BAR RIGHT NOW! DO YOU UNDERSTAND? YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO LEAVE THIS BAR! “ (okay, so I was yelling.. whatevs..)
Upon reentry to the bar, Seven has his head down and remarks…
Things I never thought I’d see: my wife yelling at my son to go INTO a bar. I guess that’s what I get for marrying a Cajun. Damn’it.
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