No Longer Pudding Up With It

(A family, including grandparents, a mother and father, and two boys are sitting at a table. The youngest boy, about seven years old, is extremely pale. I am getting a table ready nearby and overhear them.)

Little boy: “Mum, I’m feeling really sick.”

Mum: “No, you’re not. You’re fine. Stop ruining your grandma’s birthday dinner.”

Little boy: “Mum, I’m going to be sick.”

Grandma: “Shall we take you home?”

Mum: “No! He is not ruining your dinner. He is staying.”

(Their food is brought over by another waitress. The boy waits patiently for her to put the food down, then attempts to run to the bathroom, but his mum grabs him.)

Mum: “SIT DOWN!”

Little boy: “I’m going to be sick!”

(She dumps her vegetables out of her side dish and hands it to him.)

Mum: “Nobody leaves this table!”

(The little boy has no choice but to be sick into one of our side dishes. The mum just puts a napkin over it. The little boy doesn’t touch his meal. When everyone else is finished, I go to clear their plates.)

Me: “Was everything okay?”

Mum: “Yes, he just wasn’t hungry.” *glares at little boy* “He’s ruined his Grandma’s birthday dinner! Could we have pudding menus please?”

Grandma: “He wasn’t hungry because he was sick, and you refuse to let me take him home! If anybody has ruined my birthday dinner, it’s you, and I care more about my grandson than having pudding!”