It Happened at McDonald's

I go to McDonald's way more than I'm willing to admit here,

A few weeks ago, I took Eva and Zoe to McDonald's after school, and there was a little girl in the play place who kept stealing our food. She was there with her grandma who wouldn't look up from her cell phone (no judgment, just stating the fact) and who also may have been a meth addict (maybe some judgment for that one). I kept trying to get eye contact from the grandma in a way that wasn't rude but that would encourage her to rescue us from her grabby granddaughter, but Grandma was oblivious.

My next tactic was to say to the girl, "Do you have some french fries at your table? You do? Okay, go get some of your french fries!" That didn't really work, either. I mean, I get it - other people's food always tastes better even if it's the same. The diet of every two-year-old on the planet is proof of that fact!

Then I tried, "Can you climb all the way to the top of the playground and show me how you go down the slide?" That worked once and got her away from us for three minutes, but then she was right back, grabbing at our Happy Meal boxes. My girls went ballistic any time she came near us, and the grandma never batted an eye. Eventually we left because we had to pick up Nicky from an extra-curricular activity.

I was a little flustered at the lengths we had to go to to protect our food, and I'm pretty sure I vowed to never eat at McDonald's again...

...which brings me to yesterday when we went to McDonald's for lunch. This time we went to a different location (we like a change of scenery sometimes).

Once more, we were in the play area, and a little boy in footed pajamas - probably barely two years old, if even that - came over to our table, took Zoe's boots, and put them on his feet. I didn't even realize what he was doing until he started tapping my leg because he wanted help. I looked around for his parents, but I didn't know who he belonged to. I took the boots off him, trying so hard to be kind and to not emit any judgement but also hoping for back-up from his elusive parents. At some point they would come looking for him, one would assume. In an effort to keep things kind, I showed him how the boots light up on the bottom. I let him tap the boots a few times, and then I said, "Okay, time to put the boots away!" and I hid them behind me. Then I tried the 'ole, "Can you climb up to the very top of the playground and show me how you go down the slide?" bit, but he wasn't having it. He wanted the boots! He climbed under my table and tried every maneuver he could think of to get to the boots which I held in place with my feet.

In the meantime, the employee brought out our order (I could write a whole rant about McDonald's pathetic efforts to bring food to the tables, but that is an issue for another day), and the kid started helping himself to our food which reminded me that I was never supposed to eat at McDonald's again. It also taught me that fry thieves are lurking everywhere!

Then the stole my girls' Happy Meal toys and went running out of the play area while Zoe chased him around the restaurant. Finally a dad appeared, took the toys from the boy, made him say sorry, and took him back in the play place. I finally had a location for the dad. He was sitting around the corner and couldn't see us, so any time the boy came over to us, the dad had no idea where he was or what he was doing.

After the toy burglary, the boy came right back to us. He wanted to put our stuff in the garbage (I let him). He went for the boots a few more times, and at one point he started hitting, and I was like, "Whoa, dude! Go get your dad!" and I shoo-ed him back around the corner.

Then he came back once again, and that's when things got really weird...

Because he wanted to rub our feet.

Let me be clear about this: HE WANTED TO RUB OUR FEET.

He started with Eva, who was barefoot. He grabbed her foot, and Eva's face very clearly read, "What the hell?!?" He used both hands, like he'd been taught the art of foot massage. Then he wanted to rub Eva's other foot. After that, he moved to Zoe, who had socks on. He rubbed one foot and then the other.

This whole time, I was so blown away that all I could do was sit back and watch, wide-eyed.

When he finished Zoe's feet, he looked up at me and tapped my shoe to indicate that I was supposed to take my shoes off, and I looked at him, thinking, "Is this really happening?"

In the words of Kris Kross, it was wiggity wack!

I didn't let the kid rub my feet.

And he was mad!

And all the while, his dad had no idea that he was going around the McDonald's play place rubbing strangers.

I came to the following conclusion: when a two-year-old boy at McDonald's tries to rub your feet, no question, it's time to leave.