birth control.

I have always loved children, and between years of babysitting and camp counseling, I have gotten pretty good at dealing with their shenanigans. Waiting on their tables, however, is an entirely different and unfamiliar animal.

Yesterday afternoon I started off the day with two tables: a sweet elderly couple and a couple of not-so-sweet kids and their mother. I greeted the latter with a big smile, asking the children their names and telling them mine.

I started with the kids' drink order first, listing off what we had to choose from.

"We have milk, chocolate milk, apple juice, organge juice, lemona-"

"CHOCOLATE!!" the little girl screamed at me at the top of her lungs.

"Well okay then!" I smiled as I felt the glare of other customers' eyes on my back. "Chocolate milk it is! And for you bud?" I turned to the little boy.

"SPRITE!!" he yelled just as loud.

"Is Sierra Mist okay?" I asked.

"Nooooo," he whined like I told him there was no Santa Clause. "I want Sprite!"

"Sierra Mist is fine," his mother interjected. "And just bring me a water with lemon," she snapped.

"You got it!" I faked cheerfulness.

After bringing them their beverages and taking their food order (which went equally as poorly), I vented to my coworkers in the kitchen.

"Go check out table 31... Best birth control ever."

A little while later I brought out their chicken fingers, grilled cheese, and Caesar salad.

"Anything else I can get for you guys?" I asked as I set down their food.

"Yes," the mother replied. "More chocolate milk, more Sierra Mist, and more napkins."

"You got it!" I smiled and turned to walk away.

"Oh, and one more thing," she said as she handed me the saltshaker. "You need to wash this."

I briefly inspected the shaker and didn't see any obvious reason why it needed to be cleaned.

"Is it dirty?" I asked her, puzzled.

"Yeah," she replied, pointing at her daughter. "She licked it."