Was there anything better when you were a kid than a night out at an Italian family restaurant?

Attempting to eat a bowl of spaghetti and meatballs larger than your head, followed by a big bowl of ice-cream smothered in chocolate syrup and/or hundreds and thousands that you politely ordered from the nice waitress who tousled your hair, said “Heesagoodboy” and handed you an activity book so your parents could chat to their friends and have a glass of One More Won’t Hurt or You’ll Have to Take the Back Streets, Dear.