Twinkle: McB*tchin'

So, I'm aware that people probably judge me for Twinklette's behavior on occasion. She's a toddler, which means that sometimes she doesn't want to sit in her chair or she loses interest in her meal. Sometimes she squeals at inappropriate times or whines annoyingly in the background. What the haters don't see is the round-the-clock lessons in age-appropriate etiquette and comportment I try to impart each day: asking nicely for something, saying please and thank you, eating what you're served. We've even begun work on the proper way to butter bread, and one of these days, it'll all pay off. It has to.

I trust that day will come well before she's 13.

I spent the better part of the day at a bridal luncheon at the fabulous Holly Hill Inn. I had the good sense to leave Twinklette at home, and yet I had the misfortune of sitting next to a very surly 13-year-old girl whose previous culinary experience was limited to the dollar menu at McDonalds, and it showed. She brought her McDonalds manners right there into the Holly Hill Inn, where she happily texted away for the better part of the three-course meal.

Texting was the least of her problems, and I don't care if I sound mean for hatin' on some 13-year-old girl. She was way too old to be acting the way she was, and if you don't want your surly 13-year-old to be judged, I say don't put her in a seat next to a judgmental b*tch like me. Here is my list of grievances against her:

1). The menu. She had no concept of a three-course meal and had no idea how to order. When the server came, she looked at her mother (who, by the way, was my age), to order for her. I'm sorry, but I have seen 2-year-olds speak to the staff with more poise. (I'm speaking not of Twinklette, but another little girl in my family, who, at the tender age of 2, said, "I'd like the macaroni and cheese and a fruit cup, please" to a waitress at the Lexington Country Club). I know most little kids aren't capable of this, but by the time you're 13 you're able to both read and speak, so I say you should be expected to order for yourself. After her mother ordered for her, she whined, "I'm never going to be able to eat all that." Even Twinklette is familiar with courses and the concept of pacing yourself, having been to American Girl numerous times in her young life. The Holly Hill in, after all, is not the all-you-can-eat buffet at Frisch's Big Boy.

2. The first course. She ordered the salad with orange slices, candied pecans, and a sweet sorghum vinaigrette, which I have had before, and it's delicious. Something about the salad wasn't to her liking, though. It wasn't, after all, deep fried and covered in ranch. So instead of just being quiet about it and waiting for the next course, she had to b*tch to her mother so that everyone could hear: "We are so stopping at McDonalds after this." It wasn't enough that she said it across the table to her mother, though--she had to say it all the way down the other end of the table to her step-grandmother (or someone...not really sure what the relationship was). Meanwhile I was focusing intently on my minestrone soup to keep from smacking the ill-bred little brat. By the way, I found the minestrone delicious, but there's no telling what this girl would have done when confronted with a soup that didn't have letters of the alphabet floating in it.

3. The main course. She ordered pork chops topped with an apple chutney and green beans, and I swear to you that, instead of cutting the meat, she picked up an entire pork chop with her fork and gnawed on it, with 95% of the chop flapping out of her mouth like a pancake. She scraped off the chutney, or, as she, her mother, and the grandmother figure called it, the "stuff on top." The green beans didn't meet her standards either, and, again, she stated, "I'm feeling McDonalds calling my name." Again, she said it twice, once to her mother and once to her grandmother.

4. The potatoes. The meal was served with a bowl of hash browns for the table. Since the rest of her meal was so unsatisfactory, she helped herself to practically the entire bowl, leaving the other 4 adults at the table to ration a few bites of what was left between us.

5. The dessert. We ordered the same one: lemon pound cake topped with Devonshire cream, whipped cream, blackberry glaze and fresh raspberries. What's not to love about that? She took one bite, made a face, and I braced myself for the obligatory McDonalds comment, but it never came.

6. The worst offense: THE BALDFACED LIE. So, after the salad course, the bride-to-be came up to our table to say hello and socialize for a little bit. Keep in mind that this was immediately after the girl's incessant complaining about the salad and how gross it was, and repeated queries to her mother about what the candied pecans were when the answer was patently obvious to anyone who has ever seen a German roasted nut stand at the State Fair (and I feel confident this girl has), and her constant statements about wanting to go to McDonalds. She actually looked at the bride and said, "The salad was good." I turned to her, shocked but hoping she'd come to her senses at last, and I said, "Did you like it?" She nodded, but the bride hadn't heard her. So she said it again. Then, when the bride was gone, she went back to her endless b*tching about the fact that the menu didn't include more processed meat, transfat, and items beginning with "Mc."

So not only is she ill-bred, but also a hypocrite.

I am exhausted after making conversation with that little brat and her family (I am, after all, a friend of the bride's family). I just had to share her horrible manners and rude behavior with y'all...it truly hindered my enjoyment of the meal, to hear someone complaining about each and every aspect of it the whole time. Twinklette may whine at times, but I think being a bad guest is a much worse offense.