So the Olde Salty restaurant has banned screaming children, and I, who have spent way too many evenings out sitting in a car with one of those screaming children while the rest of the family finishes dinner, am really okay with that.
I just don’t think they’ve gone far enough.
I don’t care WHY anyone, young or old, is being disruptive in a restaurant. If disruption is happening, disruption should get out until disruption quiets down, unless it’s a Chuck E. Cheese where the flashing lights almost guarantee that everyone’s going to have a seizure and we’re encouraged to disrupt the heck out of everything.
It’s the only courteous thing to do for all the other people around you who are paying for their meals. (And that goes double for whipping out your cell phone and having really, really loud, long, and boring conversations that don’t even throw in gratuitous sex details to make it a little interesting. If you’re not going to toss in vague references to Dobermans and toasters and maybe a few knowing snickers, leave so we don’t have to listen to it.)
I am not unsympathetic to the plight of the parent who just wants to have a nice dinner out. Like I said, I’ve been that woman. Nothing is more depressing than hauling the whole crew out to a regular, non-fast-food restaurant and then, right after you’ve placed your order (and it’s always right after you’ve placed your order and now you’re kinda stuck) one of the kids starts climbing the walls and you know that one of the adults is going to have to do the Walk of Shame out to the car and sit there like a leper while the rest of the Normal People eat like civilized human beings, and sometimes both parents sit there hoping that the other one will volunteer to be the leper and everyone within a five-mile radius has their ear drums seared until one of you cracks and corrals the miscreant and hits the door.
And if you know that any member of your party cannot control their Disruption Quotient for whatever reason long enough to get to dessert, then you must, as a courtesy to all those fellow diners who are, really, at your mercy, make plans accordingly. The Americans with Disabilities Act will not cover you here.
It sucks, but ya gotta suck it up and do it. It’s the price of doing business as a parent. It’s not easy, it’s not fun, and it’s not for the faint of heart, but it’s the price we all pay.
© E.S. Evans 2010
Mom, Interrupted 
Amen! I tell myself that the parents don’t want to hear the shrieking dolphin noise any more than I do, but it is still disruptive.
I believe that planning is everything here. We only take our kids out when they’ve had good naps and we do call ahead seating so thy are not expected to wait. If our table is not ready, we go outside and let them get their energy out. Snacks are a must. And a small, quiet toy or two. I can’t wait until coloring is also a good option. I also don’t believe that the mess that accompanies toddlers should be left up to the poor waiter/waitress to clean. So I carry a small dust broom and dust pan in my diaper bag.