Today we went to Baby Girl’s first birthday party. I walked in the door with shirts for Baby Girl and Laura told me that she missed me terribly. How can you beat that?
The Baby spent the entire party shooting for the back door when it opened. He was very busy because the ice was on the back patio. He had plenty of opportunity. I gave him my left eye and used my right to stare lovingly at my peppermint martini. Nothing says ‘I love you’ like a peppermint martini on a cold, rainy Sunday afternoon at a kid’s birthday party. The Baby and Baby Girl were the only 1 and under crowd and all the neighborhood parents were there with their kids–friends of Baby Girl’s 10 year old sister Maddie. There was a horrible screeching from the basement that someone identified as karaoke, but all in all, we were unmolested by tweenagers.
That being said, all those parents of tweenagers haven’t been exposed to the “new parenting style” currently espoused by half-assed parents across America. The Baby? Crawling all over. My goal? To keep him from falling down the two tile stairs into the living room. My purpose beyond that? Not much. I looked over to see The Boy scaling a bar stool and belling up to the island in the kitchen. I went over because I could see two mothers with near panicked faces. I mean, what if his foot slipped and he fell to the ground on his head, crushing his skull and becoming permanently brain damaged? I went over because I sensed a far greater danger.
K: What are you doing?
The Boy: I think I would like a martini (picking up a chilled martini shaker).
K: I’m sorry?
The Boy: (looking at Laura’s father–a pillar in his community, whose look was priceless). I SAID, I think I would like a martini.
K: Buddy, it’s not bedtime yet. I think you would like a Sprite. With no caffeine and that fake sugar that’s gonna kill us all one day.
The Boy: I no like Sprite.
K: Sprite it is. You’re gonna love it. It’s terrible for you.
Neighbor: Did he just say he would like a martini?
K: Um, yeah. It loosens him up a little in these high-pressure situations like kids parties.
I haven’t made a martini since like 2005. I don’t even KNOW where he gets this stuff. Honest. I swear.