A few weeks ago we splurged and took the girls out to eat at a local Japanese restaurant, Massaki, where they cook the food in front of you on a large grill. The chef tosses knives, juggles eggs, and even has flames shoot off the grill five feet high. It's an entertaining show. We thought the kids would enjoy it. Well . . . S liked it, Marina was indifferent, and K was terrified. She was fine with everything but the fire. He only did it twice, but that was two times too many for her. She was crying so hard I had to take her out twice to try to calm her down. Fortunately, the place was almost empty. She ate one shrimp, one bite of rice, and spent the last half of the meal cowering under the table sobbing. I felt kind of bad about it, but we weren't about to leave and waste all that money!
Ever since then, she talks about it a lot, as in, "I don't want to go to the fire restaurant anymore." No worries. We won't be doing that again anytime soon.
Well, right now she's got her toy food and dishes out, and is playing restaurant. She says she is a cooker-man, and is pretending to make fire. I pretended to be a crying child, much to my daughters' amusement.