Bedtime story

Bedtime story, originally uploaded by medusahead.

We're getting close to something that smacks of routine in our house, where Harlow grabs a book, does her orangatan walk to wherever you may be, turns around and backs her little snugly body into your lap for storytime. Of course this is usually when you are trying to cook dinner or check email, but the payoff is getting to nuzzle her sweet little noggin while you try to make monkeys wearing jewelry and playing drums sound exciting. (Now that I think about it, cross dressing monkey musicians are pretty exciting.

So tonight she comes toddling over with her new favorite bedtime story - the tale of hapless airline passengers who make a successful emergency ocean landing and clutch their seat/flotation devices while they wait for rescue. I'm not exactly sure when she smuggled the flight safety instructions into her bag, but my budding klepto is transfixed by the oxygen masks, the inflatable slides, and the Mona Lisa smile of the woman clutching 15B to her chest.

***

We are down to about 1 carton of moldy blueberries as we are leaving town again for a very Sweazy family reunion, so baby girl and I had a date at Cafe 1912. I had a hankering for a nice glass of wine and a healthy salad, and my sweet baby does so nicely when we go out that I thought it would be a fun treat.

I think it was when she started to choke on the 10 pieces of bread she'd stored in her cheek that I realized that the night was quickly headed south. And I'm not kidding. She suddenly got very still, her eyes bugged out in panic, and I had the realization that the moment I had been fearing since she took her first slurp of rice cereal was happening now - at the same restaurant where I nearly choked on a fish bone a year before. I'm thinking for karma's sake I need to cut 1912 from my list.

Fortunately I got a nice tube of partially eaten bread vomited into my hand just as the waiter deposited our caprese at the table. I took a big gulp of my pinot grigio and tried to interest her in some buffalo mozzerella. Rather than lunging for her favorite food groups - cheese and more cheese - she suddenly let out a piercing scream, and because these are the things that happen when you take your toddler to a fancy restaurant for dinner, took a gigantic, painful crap in her pants.

I'm going to spare you details.

I drained half of my wine and signaled for the check. I barely had the words To Go out of my mouth when our dinner appeared wrapped up and ready for our stinky selves to leave. Of course, now she didn't want to leave. To the couple in the corner's bemusement, she decided that she needed to have the portable restaurant phone.

NOW.

When not running over to the hostess table to knock the phone out of her chubby little hand, I was trying to round up raisins and sign the check and keep my odiferous child from getting downwind. I threw her over my shoulder, walked in our door, and she was down 15 minutes later.

A note here to the folks interested in hemp milk. I'm thinking I have not found the cure for the dairy sensitivity problem. The fact that she daily passes material about the size and texture of Mt. Kilimanjaro is my first clue. It is pretty yummy though, and full of dairy-like fat. You can get it at your local, overpriced health food store.

Um. Hemp milk, that is. Milk. Not poop. Because if I have started eating poop, I'm not gonna just slide it into this post all nonchalantly. That kind of crazy is getting an agent and starting its own blog.