We took the girls out for dinner the other night–an outing I usually dread given I spend a disproportionate amount of time in the ladies room with one, two, or if I’m lucky, all three girls at once.

This night was no exception.

We had waited for about fifteen minutes for our table. The wait wouldn’t have been quite so bad had we not been given a pager to hold while arguing over who would knock over the candy dish and run fists full of treats towards the exit. Yet another shiny object with promises to blink, vibrate and draw an unprecedented amount of attention to whoever won the thumb war championship and was awarded “holder of the blinking object.”

The baby, like clockwork, loaded up her diaper and a portion of the small of her back sending us for the first of many bathroom breaks.

We ordered and Chloe spilled an apple sauce on the floor. We were so busy refereeing an argument between Hanna and Ellie and trying to pretend the stain on Chloe’s back was food related, we didn’t notice the mess she had made until we saw three of the wait staff on hands and knees under our table wiping it up.

The next trip to the bathroom with one child while the other swore she did not have to go and Greg fought to put Chloe’s shoes back on while attempting to explain the “No shirt, no shoes” sign clearly posted on an adjacent wall.

It was in this moment when we thought we would (and should) be asked to leave when two women at the next table approached and said, “You have such a beautiful family. Your girls are just adorable.”

Wait until they see the empty candy bowl.