One Mother’s Day…Article

Shane, Mom, Erin and me one Mother's Day

One Mother’s Day in the early 1980’s, my husband and I decided to take our two mothers out for a nice dinner. Of course we included our own little children in the outing–after all, it was Mother’s Day, a time for mothers and children to be together, enjoying each other’s company.

The day started off great; it was a lovely May day, the sun was shining, the gentle breeze was cool but not cold like it can be sometimes in early spring.  Hubby and I dressed the children and packed the car for the trip. Five and a half year old Shane was a cute little blond boy clad in red, and not-quite three year old Erin was adorable in a blue dress I had smocked for her.  In fact, we all looked so nice that day that hubby took a picture of us once we arrived at my mom’s, before we headed out to the restaurant.

We chose a restaurant in a neighbouring town; a Chinese food place, although I can’t remember its name now. Everyone loved Chinese food, even little Erin and Shane enjoyed egg rolls and rice and Chow Mein, so this was a perfect choice for a Mother’s Day celebration.

The restaurant was busy, but luckily we had thought to call ahead for a reservation, and our table was ready in no time at all. We ordered our food, poured wine for the adults (except for my husband’s mom, who doesn’t drink alcohol), and milk for the children.

Shane and Erin were very well behaved–they said ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ in all the right places, sat quietly until the meal arrived, and offered funny little comments throughout dinner that helped keep the mood light and the conversation flowing. I was a proud mom.

Finally we were done; none of us could eat any more and all that was left to do was pay the bill and head home. While hubby went to the counter to settle the tab, the two grandmothers, the children and I waited near the entrance. Before I could say, “Shane, come back here”, my cute little blond boy dressed in red snuck up behind a woman who was having a quiet lunch with her daughter and yelled, “BOO” in his loudest voice ever!

The poor woman shrieked and dropped her fork, her daughter burst into gales of laughter, the other patrons in the restaurant stared, and I looked around for a hole into which I could crawl. Shane, in the meantime, just smiled at everyone and walked back to join our little group as if nothing had happened.

Of course I insisted that he apologize to the lady that he frightened, and to his credit he did, but I’m not even certain the woman heard him over her daughter’s continuous laughter. “Funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Happy Mother’s Day, Mom, we’ll have to come here again next year!”

I looked around for my husband but he had already retreated to the safety of our car; I ushered Shane and Erin outside and the two grandmothers trailed behind us, almost, but not quite, hiding their grins.

I often wonder if that daughter took her mother back to the Chinese restaurant on Mother’s Day the next year, and if she sat in the same seat, waiting for Shane to arrive for an encore performance. I do know that this story became one of mom’s favourite “Shane tales” and she never tired of sharing it with others.  

 I don’t think hubby took any more pictures of us that day.