Why is it that as soon as a hysterical, screaming two year old hits the pillow in their Mom and Dad’s bed they are instantly out like a light? You would think it would take a moment or two to calm down. Apparently, it does not.
One of the things I love about parenthood is that you can bond with almost anyone else who is a parent. This is especially helpful for a stay-at-home Mom like myself because it gives me permission to engage in conversation with adults throughout my day. Like yesterday when T.Puzzzle and I went to the grocery. He was having a joyful blast “driving” the cart shaped like a car. We talked to a Grandma who worked in produce who said he was “a very good driver”. We then chatted with a man who had the most adorable little girl dressed in head-to-toe pink. I commented on her attire a little wistfully. I told him having boys does not afford me the pleasure of buying clothes with lace and bows. He thanked me for my compliments and T.Puzzle told him he had started kindergarten this past week. Remember, T.Puzzle is only two years old. He is such a liar sometimes and the world at large eats it right up no matter what he says. I think it’s his glasses, they are too cute.
So when Mad Dog and I had a much anticipated date night last night, it only made sense that I bonded with our waiter who happened to be a father of a very active three year old boy. It’s nice when some of the challenges you have experienced raising your own family can help another parent out. Our waiter was concerned that his son was not talking enough for his age. I said not to worry. He sounded so much like Full Speed. Full Speed’s previous school in Wisconsin kept harping on me to have him evaluated by a speech pathologist. I think he was so busy mastering the physical world he couldn’t be bothered to take the time to talk. We moved to Florida before he was officially evaluated and the rest is history. Now you can’t get the kid to be quiet and he talks in complicated sentences that sound oddly like an old man who is a member of the Republican Party. I’m serious. As we left the restaurant I could tell the waiter seemed heartened by my story and that felt really good.
Here’s the thing about date night when you are a parent, it is hard to stay out to a respectably late hour. Our babysitter, who is a patient, energetic, lovely young woman whom I’m deeply indebted to, thinks Mad Dog and I are teetering on the edge of senior citizenship. Oh, she is much too polite to say it out loud but it is covertly implied. We didn’t even crack nine o’clock last night. Granted, I drank more wine when we got home so the date did continue for a little while. Regardless, we were in bed by ten.
When I drink a little too much wine I inevitably start asking Mad Dog ridiculous and redundant questions that he always answers the same way. He has much patience for this kind of thing. Which is good since it seems I drink too much wine on occasion.
“Do you think I’m pretty?” I’ll ask in a sort of pleading way.
Which he always dutifully responds “Yes,” or “Of course.”
“Will you still love me when I’m old and wrinkled?”
“Absolutely,” he replies without so much as the raise of an eyebrow.
“How can I be sure?” I throw the question out like a challenge.
“Hang around and you’ll see.” Good answer. It’s to the point and I found it to be pragmatically romantic if there is such a notion.
It’s a date Mad Dog, just don’t expect me to stay up past ten o’clock while doing so.