Almost Croaked the Monsieur

/ roughwighting

croque monsieur, French restaurantMy son and I plan on a mid-week lunch in the city. He texts me the day before:

“Café Claude, like before.”

Damn, I don’t remember ever lunching with him there. Am I losing brain cells?

I google Café Claude. How nice, close to the parking garage – sweet son. I click on Open Table and make a 1:15 reservation, e-mailing the confirmation to my darling boy.

I arrive at the garage at 1, noticing a text from sonny boy that says “10 min late… sorry.”

Fine by me, it’s a gorgeous day so I walk around the block for 10 minutes, then find the restaurant (weird that I don’t remember ever being here). The waiter seats me at our reserved table in this intimate French restaurant at 1:17.Cafe Claude, San Francisco dining, French restaurant

I tap my toes at 1:30.

I grind my teeth at 1:37.

I finally look at my phone at 1:40. Whoops. Two missed calls and four texts from my scatter-brained son that say:

WHERE ARE YOU.

CALL ME.

I’M HERE.

WHERE ARE YOU??

Cafe de la Presse, San Francisco dining, French restaurantAs I read the texts, a bit befuddled, son calls. He’s angry. He’s never been to Café Claude, he’s at the other French restaurant – the one we’ve been to before. Sighing, he agrees to come find me.

I sip on my tea and breathe in, breath out.

iced tea, restaurant, San Francisco dining

I order his favorite French sandwich, so we’ll at least have time to eat before he rushes back to work.

Son arrives 7 minutes later, huffing and puffing. How could I have gotten it so wrong, he asks. I show him his text that states Café Claude. I pull up the e-mail confirmation that I’d sent him. (What did we all do, before we had cell phones to act as our witness?)

Looking a tad contrite, darling dear son announces: “Let’s say we’re both sorry and leave it at that.”

I smile at my frustrated little boy – 31, father of 3, and sweetly say, “No.”

I don’t shout.

I don’t curse.

I just slowly sip my tea from a straw.

“Okay,” silly son responds with a crooked grin. “I’m sorry.”

Then, we enjoy a delightful croquet monsieur together.

26 thoughts on “Almost Croaked the Monsieur”

  3. Good for you for standing your ground. Sometimes my kids run all over me and I let them because I’m afraid of “missing” out on their lives and don’t want to be in the dog house. But it is a bit frustrating (and hurtful).

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  7. Oh, this is great. I rarely read one of your blogs without chuckling out loud. My boy-man is exactly 31 years old-young, too. I am glad that you didn’t apologize. He needed to eat that one. 🙂

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  12. I know I am kind of going through the back door and that this post is a few months old but I had to comment. After reading this I looked quick to make sure that I was indeed following you. 🙂 Because if I wasn’t I knew that I was going to love to read your writings. I was totally right there with you (having a son that for the life of me… I have no idea what to do with. And a daughter who is like an extension of me. Don’t get me wrong, I love them both. But I have to admit that I was wondering how you were going to handle that apology! So lauging out loud I can’t even abbreviate!
    And yaaay for technology!!! So glad you said NO. But what was that sandwich?! Oh my it looks decadent! I am gaining weight just looking at it!
    🙂

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    • A Croque Monsieur, basically a fancy grilled cheese.
      Ahhh, sons. They break our hearts, then make us love them to bits all over again.
      I so LOVED your comments here – thank you!!!

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