Guess Who Is Coming To Dinner

Once in a while my husband gets these wacky ideas in his head. I nod, smile, go along and hope he will learn from his mistakes. He had the "brilliant" idea to invite a visiting professor to our house for dinner. Did I mention this guy is from North(or South) Carolina? Yup, the south, where they have actual manners and use words like "sir" and ma'am". So, I get to grocery shop, clean the house, bathe both kids and myself and prepare a full meal - salad, veggies, dessert and everything in between. Did my husband not see "Guess Who Is Coming To Dinner" and "The Birdcage"? Some people are not meant to have people visit their homes at meal time. I only wish my problems were a wacky servant who can't wear shoes or inappropriate dinnerware. For 2 days, I prepped (threatened, bribed, begged, pleaded) the kids about expected behavior. The list included: no nakedness, no yelling, no hitting, no throwing anything, keep hands to self, sit at table (with clothes on), eat food, chew with mouth closed, eat only your food, and so on. Everyone was fully clothed a full 8 minutes before our guest arrived. He was greeted by our 4 year old with "Hi, I am 4. I just had a birthday. You can't sit next to me at dinner". As the adults sit down to chat and have a glass of wine, we realize we stand a better chance of peace and quiet if we give the kids a large bowl of chips and "green dip" (guacamole) to keep them busy and quiet. Christian, trying to be a good southern gentleman, kept offering our guest soggy chips with dip. No wanting to push our luck with Christian and broccoli, we let him off the hook and gave him corn. Give this kid an inch, he will take a mile and run with it like an Olympic sprinter. He demanded croutons but no salad. Then disliking the crouton, tried to pass them off onto the rest of our plates. Typical 4 year old boy, Christian decides he needs to use the potty in the middle of dinner. He can it all himself but prides himself on his running commentary, which is.....graphic. Dinner and potty handled and over, we move to the living room to chat. We let the kids watch cartoons. Sara, a typical 8 year old with a thirst for power, snatches the remote. I don't know if they were watching "Rambo" or "Scarface" but it sounded violent and inappropriate. Being a good/bad hostess, I declare it bedtime and herd them off to bed. Christian graciously offers to let "daddy's work buddy" sleep on his floor. I guess my kids do have some manners. Sort of.