On the day of our 5th anniversary, we spent the day touring Washington D.C. My mom kept Maddie for the entire weekend, so it was like we were newlyweds again. We laughed at each other's stupid jokes, we ran through the rain trying to both fit under an umbrella, we made fun of other tourists, we absolutely exhausted ourselves. After all that, I was ready for some romance.
Let me set the scene. It had just turned dark. We went to the second floor of a quaint Italian restaurant, sat at an intimate table for two, right beside an open window while the rain slowed to a drizzle. The candles were lit, the wine was nice, the conversation was better.
And then, coming from the table close by we hear the dreaded sound of, you guessed it, kids. Loud kids. Kids that don't know the meaning of romance. Kids that ask very interesting questions.
"Dad, do you have any brothers or sisters?" the boy asked. "No, I'm an only child," responded the dad. "Can you just make your body have a child?" he wanted to know. "No. You can't. Who do you want to win the baseball game tomorrow?" He tried. "I don't know. Um, Dad, if you can't make your body have a child, can you make your body not have a baby?"
And he really tried to explain about the little pill a woman can take. To a 7 year old. And he explained, very patiently, how great the questions were, just inappropriate at the dinner table.
Meanwhile, I wipe the wine that I had just shot out of my nose off my chin, Justin picks himself off the floor from laughing, and we agree that hearing that was the highlight of our trip.
Until it hit us. HOLY. CRAP. Maddie will probably ask us something like that. But it better not be for a really long time. We need time to prepare.
.jpg)
