It began at Fred’s. I was tucking into a lobster salad over a business lunch at the swanky eatery inside Barneys when I noticed, amid the sea of designer handbags and diners who define chic, babies dotting the room. And instead of grudgingly accepting them, the staff was doting.
My daughter, Meenakshi, was 8 months old at the time, and my husband and I had been getting our restaurant-food fix by ordering takeout or hiring a sitter. Whenever we took her with us we ended up wishing we had stayed home.
At our favorite pizza restaurant, which was always full of families, we were told that we were not allowed in with a stroller — Meenakshi was just 4 months, too small for a high chair, and the thought of working our way through a pie while taking turns holding her was not exactly appealing, so we took it to go. A casual American spot with a separate children’s menu seemed promising, but I was left struggling with my stroller down the handful of stairs while the staff stood idly watching.
But after seeing the babies at Fred’s, I decided to try again. We were able to check in our bulky stroller, and when it came to ordering for our little gastronomist, then about 10 months old, the Fred’s waiter suggested an off-the-menu grilled cheese on whole wheat with a side of sautéed broccoli. It arrived within minutes. He was amused, not annoyed, by Meenakshi’s game of dropping her plastic cutlery on the floor more than a dozen times so he could pick it up.
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