Actually, they were probably 2 and a half. I was still sharing space with my first husband in Charleston, South Carolina but, functioning as a single parent. I’ve forgotten where he was. It doesn’t matter. I wanted food I had not prepared for myself and served to me. I wanted some graciousness. We had been going out to eat with my parents for their whole life so restaurants weren’t entirely alien. This was just our first time solo.

I called an Italian restaurant down the road to see if they needed a reservation. They did not. It was the middle of the week and a fairly quiet evening.

We dressed up. My child has always loved to dress for festive occasions and knew that this meant we were doing something special.

When the host saw my date, his eyes got big for a moment. I said, “If there is a problem, we can leave.” He recovered and said, “Oh no. Right this way.” and led us to a booth. “I’m afraid we don’t have any high chairs or boosters.” I said. “We’ll be fine without that.”

A couple across the room saw us and looked worried as they leaned in to talk to each other, shooting glances at us as they talked. Other heads had turned as we walked across the room.

My date had water, glass half full, with a straw and spaghetti with meat sauce, skip the salad. I had unsweetened tea, salad and some other dish. We chatted as we waited.

They were a little messy eating and decided to sit on my side of the table so it was easier for me to help manage the pasta. The only mess was their face, though. Not the tablecloth or the floor. And they stayed with me. No trying to investigate the room. I had decided before we left the house that if any of that started, I would pay and we would leave.

When the waiter brought our check, he had gone from the nervous young man darting looks at my companion to all smiles. He said, “Please, come again. It has been a delight to serve you.”

The other diners around the room smiled at us as we walked by and nodded at the child with a little tomato sauce on their sweater.

The smiling host held the door for us and invited us to return any time.

This is one of the snapshot memories I have of my little child.

Another is two years later. They had samosas while I ate saag paneer at a booth in Greensboro. The Indian restaurant was a little more casual and my child was 4. The staff was quite sanguine about a child dining with their mother.

We’re going out for Indian food this Saturday. They will be 31 on Sunday. Exactly half my age. They say it feels like they’re catching up to me.