A litter of toddlers and sushi DON'T mix!

So Brian finishes work today and is thrilled with the completion of a big project he had been working on.  It is also my, ever so sweet Grammy's last night in town.  I knew Brian wanted to out and celebrate, but I also knew that the kids were not having the best afternoon.  I suggested we throw a few Coronas on ice and order take out.  My ever optimistic husband was convinced that the kids would be fine as soon as they were out of the house.  Against my better judgement, I begrudgingly packed the diaper bag and off we went.  Oh, did I mention that my husband wanted to go for sushi.  What could possibly go wrong.....everyone knows that sushi is every toddler's favorite meal.

We walked into this nice quite family run Japanese restaurant.  I knew we were in trouble when I only saw two highchairs lined up against the wall.  They assured me that they had one more somewhere.  They did eventually find their third highchair, but unfortunately, two of the three highchairs had broken belts.

We ordered our food and beers as quickly as possible.  Much to Daddy's surprise, our three squirmy boys did not like edemame, potstickers, sticky rice, california rolls, or any other unfamiliar entree on our table.

At one point my husband toasted his work project closing by raising his glass and saying, "Gilbert is a GO!".  Unfortunately, what Aidan heard was his daddy saying, "Gilbert is a goat!".  He was terrified when he couldn't see this invisible goat and began urgently asking for a hug.  Apparently, no one hugged him fast enough and he started crying in terror in the middle of the restaurant.  Meanwhile, my other big boy is using a set of chopsticks as if they were drumsticks, banging away on every dish that his new extended arms could reach.  Once Brian returned from the parking lot, where he calmed Aidan and assured him that a wild goat was not going to get him, he attempts to feed Luca one last time.  Then it happened.  That face I have seen all too many times.  That face that says, "I am about to projectile vomit like the exorcist wears OshKosh!".  I warned Brian to get ready, because I could guarantee that Luca was gonna blow.  I could tell that he didn't believe me, but I knew he was gonna be sorry in about 10 seconds. (Not to mention the rest of the diners in this tiny little restaurant.)

He was like a volcano.  I literally could have counted down, 3-2-1!  Sure enough, Luca shoots an entire belly full of weird food and milk allllll over the place.  To give Brian credit, he did attempt to catch it with a plate.  Poor daddy had no idea that the little plate would be no match for a Luca sized belly.

I immediately hopped up and tried to clean the vomit out of my screaming baby's nose.  Quickly wiping him off and whisking him out to the car for further clean up.  Brian dove onto the floor and wiped up the contents of Luca's belly.  He then came out to the car with the other two boys.  Grammy downed her sake. I pounded my beer.  Asked for boxes and a check.  Left a huge tip.  Apologized to the other diners and rushed out completely mortified.

Seriously, it was as if we were on some documentary warning about the consequences of not using birth control.  I guess there are really two morals to this story- 1. They call it "woman's intuition" and "maternal instinct" for a reason.  2. Toddlers and sushi are NOT a match made in salmon roll heaven.