Is There a Policy for That?

With kids all you can really expect is the unexpected. 

This sort of sounds like an insurance advertisement.  What parent wouldn’t want an insurance policy that would pay for the cost of a meal in a restaurant gone wrong, a child wardrobe malfunction, mental anguish, or a comprehensive stuff-wrecked-by-my-kid type of coverage?

Maybe you’re wondering if a meal out with kids could ever possibly go right.  Sometimes it can, but in our case, it isn’t likely.

I’ve learned to never let an almost two-year old feed himself French fries while I foolishly try to enjoy my meal.  My two-year-old almost never knows his limitations but luckily Sam knows Max’s limitations.  He's the one who noticed Max choking.  Because of my moment of self-indulgence, I spent the majority of that meal in the bathroom washing barf out my bra. 

Sigh.  Another restaurant experience ruined. 

A policy that would have covered the cost of the meal would have been great—especially since Max was empty by the time we got home and I was ready to trade in my meal for a biggie-sized bottle of wine.

That exercise didn’t teach us anything though.  We still take them out and we’re still disappointed.

Last week, John and I took the four boys to a high school band banquet.  Technically it was Stancey’s banquet, but Stancey didn’t want to eat with us. If anything, her learning curve is much shorter than ours because she knows how meals “out” go.  To our merit, that that particular meal “out” went fine. Though after six kids, my standards aren't very high.

An hour and a half into the evening, Sam pointed out that Kenny was wearing one sandal and one tennis shoe.

Would this wardrobe malfunction be considered catastrophic under any policy? 

No, but the time three-year-old Stancey arrived commando at the children’s story hour would.

There’s a fine line between comedic and catastrophic.

When it comes to mental anguish, the entire family could certainly benefit from a policy that would entitle us to psychiatric evaluations every three months.  I’d consider it preventative care.  A non-partial outside party could check under our hoods every 3,000 miles.  My kids are bound to need it.  I’m pretty sure the year I took them to cut down our Christmas tree inflicted some lasting damage. 

And the kid-wrecking part? I don’t need to look far to find examples of that. The refrigerator door won’t stay closed because little men can’t stop hanging off it.  The water in the cooler is green because Max drinks out of the spicket.  It goes without saying what giving birth six times has done to my body.  Even my lips have stretch marks. 

So until such a policy is created with a deductible I can afford, I guess we’ll stay home and order in pizza.  Max can eat the pepperoni that he’s wedged between his toes and Kenny can wear whatever shoes he likes.  I’m just not sure we’ll drink the water.