I took Charlee and Luna to the playground this past Friday. We do this a lot. Charlee gets up so early, that we sneak out before the other kids are there. Since we have the place to ourselves, Luna can roam free alongside Charlee among the playsets and jungle gyms. There was a maintenance man there this time.
“I’ve been watching your dog with your baby,” he told me from the other side of the gate.
“The dog babysits the baby! It’s incredible to see,” he concluded.
“Well, the dog is in our family; I mean, she’s her baby, too,” I told him, feeling some pride over those two for approximately the one millionth time.
TJ and I went to a beautiful wedding in New York over the weekend. I played a tiny bit of ukulele while a brilliant harpist played a whole lot of harp.
TThere were lots of special people there that we don’t see as much as we’d like, so I took advantage of the time and talked more than I danced and ate. Though, not more than I spilled ketchup on my pretty, silky dress. Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but I did spill ketchup three times.
You guys, at one point I looked down at myself mid-conversation and noticed two distinct ketchup streaks on my pretty, silky dress. Like I was a toddler. And I know toddlers. I don’t make this comparison lightly. I spend lots of time with a toddler these days, and whenever ketchup is involved, I know it will end up all over her, so I’ll strip her down to eat in just a diaper.
But a grown woman simply cannot wear just a diaper at the cocktail hour of a beautiful and fancy wedding. Though, judging from my ketchup dribbling record, it really wouldn’t have been a bad idea.
Luckily, I got the ketchup out with some cold water. And then instead of looking like a simple slobbish mess, I had two large dark wet spots on the bodice of my dress–so I looked like a lactating slobbish mess.
It was awesome.
And so was the weekend.