This is the story of an adorable three-year old girl who came into my section and was unable to say her “r’s.” It got awkward.
Dad arrives early at the restaurant to secure a good table on the off chance that it will be busy on Thursday night at 5:05 PM. He has the pick of the tables seeing that he is the only one in the place and he chooses a four-top explaining that his wife and daughter will be arriving shortly. He immediately requests a glass of chardonnay which I bring to his table about one minute later. I watch him as he sips his wine and plays Words With Friends on his cell phone. About ten minutes later, a woman and a little girl arrive. The girl has blond hair pulled into two pigtails and she is wearing silver shoes and a little peacoat. The woman spots her husband and walks towards him, but the little girl stays by the front door refusing to move. Dad gets out of his chair and kneels down with his arms spread open expecting his daughter to run to him for a big hug. She doesn’t.
“Hey, Sam, come here!” hhe pleads.
She still doesn’t budge.
“Come give me a hug!” he says.
Again, the little girl remains motionless at the front of the restaurant. Dad gets up to go to her, passing his wife on the way.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with her today,” she says as she heads to the table and picks up his glass of Chardonnay.
When Dad gets to his daughter, she backs away and says, “No, Daddy, go away. No!”
I am standing behind the bar watching this and I can see that the father is embarrassed by his little girl’s behavior. He probably thinks I am assuming the worst about him, like he hits her or burns her with cigarettes. Actually, all I am thinking about is that I have four hours and forty five minutes to go before my shift is over and I am wondering if it’s beneficial for me to to do a wine-tasting of the wines even though I have already tasted all of them.
He convinces the girl to join them at the table and I go to take their order. Whatever issue was happening between the little girl and her dad seems to have been resolved by the time I get there and this is when I notice that she can’t say her “r’s.”
“Daddy, I want a hambugger and fench fies,” she says. “And apple juice.”
“I’m sorry, we don’t have apple juice,” I tell the dad.
Not missing a beat, the tyke pipes in and says, “Then I want oange juice. Daddy, I’m hungwy, ah you?”
The mom asks me if I can bring some bread or crackers and the little girl confirms that she indeed does want some “bwead and cwackahs.”
As I go to place the order for the family, I think how cute it is that she can’t say her “r’s.” It reminds me of Episode #8 of Season 2 of The Brady Bunch, “A Fistful of Reasons.” It’s the one where Cindy has a lisp and mean ol’ Buddy Hinton tells her, “Baby talk, baby talk, it’s a wonder you can walk.” Peter stands up for Cindy and hits Buddy, knocking his tooth loose and causing him to lisp now. Cindy gets the last laugh when she is able to taunt him right back with the same mean words.
Anyway, the little girl at Table 11 sounds cute. That is until, I take the bread to the table and she accidentally knocks her fork to the floor.
“Daddy, I dwopped my fok.”
Fork without the “r” suddenly sounds dirty to me.
I tell her I will get her a new one, but she is upset about her original fork being taken away.
“I need a fok!” She screams. “Where’s my fok? I need a fok right now! Daddy, give me a fok, Daddy. I need a fok!! I need a fok before I can eat. I need a fok and I need it wight now!”
Urgently, I rush to the sidestand to retrieve another fork so this child can’t stop screaming at her father to “fok” her. I hand the fork to her and she turns her face towards me and with the sweetest smile and cutest little voice imaginable, she tells me, “Thank you vewy much fa the fok.”
They need to get this girl to some speech classes or else start referring to forks as “eating utensils.” I don’t need to hear a three-year old girl screaming about her need for a good fok.