Happy Birthday MOTH !!!

As the rugrats will tell anyone who looks even remotely interested (and quite a few people who aren't) ... the MOTH was 31 today !!!

There's no hiding your age in our household. The rugrats know down to the last millisecond how old everyone is. (In fact, when he was younger, K came out with the now immortal line "S one, I three, Daddy 26 ... and Mummy a dinosaur !!")

The MOTH requested dinner at a Japanese restaurant where they throw knives and food. We've been to a few, and the entertainment alone is worth the visit ... the food becomes of almost secondary importance. The only problem is that the nearest throw-food-and-knives-in-the-air Japanese restaurant is three hours away in Queenstown.

As we haven't been out for dinner since we arrived in Dunedin (no S, McDonald's does not count as going out for dinner !) we had no idea where to go. Everyone at work recommended a place called Lone Star as a "good place to go for dinner when you want something really nice and have kids".

And it was lovely ... even if I did bring home a doggy-bag bigger than the portion of my meal I actually managed to eat. When I ordered lamb shanks, I had no idea that would mean I'd be facing a plate with three of them on it ... and what's more, they all looked like they had a pretty good portion of the lamb they came from still attached !! None of the "gigantic-plate-tiny-artistically-arranged-portion-of-food-go-home-and-then-have-dinner" type of meals for this restaurant.

All of which leads me, eventually, to the point of this post. We take our rugrats out for dinner quite often (well, we did before we moved here apparently - I think it's because it's too cold at night and we'd rather just order in and stay in front of the fire ... but I digress, yet again). They know how to behave in a restaurant, ie. they are not the little monsters running around between the tables yelling and trying to trip up the wait staff.

So K ordered spare ribs for dinner. When they arrived he looked confused. And didn't eat them. And then just picked up his knife and fork and stared at them. And looked confused again. (No, the boy has never eaten them before ... I don't serve pork because I can't stand the smell of it cooking) ...

Me : No honey. No knife and fork ... you pick them up with your fingers and eat them that way.
K : (with a look of absolute horror on his face) You mean now, in public ?!?!