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I woke up from a strange series of Artboy dreams (yes, you read that correctly--Artboy dreams last night to find that I have the song "Piano Man" stuck in my head. This is perhaps the stranges succession of events ever.
And no, they weren't that kind of dreams about the Artboy. Just...odd. And not disturbing-odd. Head-scratching-odd, like, "where the hell did THAT come from?!"
Grabbing my computer time where I can this morning, because the babe and I have a very busy day ahead of us. We need to go to Social Security and finally change my name so that I can (finally) get my license renewal straightened out. It's been two months since it expired--I really need to do something about that. And we need to go grocery shopping. And make a Walmart trip for things like toilet paper and laundry detergent--otherwise, our butts and our clothes will get stinky fast. So goes our exciting day.
We met Betsy at the mall yesterday afternoon for a bit of Will Birthday Shopping and some dinner. She wanted to buy him new clothes for his birthday, which he desperately needs, but she wanted to be sure she got things a) in the right size, and b) that I would actually put on him. Three new outfits, three extra shirts and three pairs of pajamas later, we headed to Joe's American Bar and Grille to eat. Will was less than thrilled with this part of the evening. He spent most of the time we were in the restaurant throwing his food (and the bread plate and the silverware and his napkin and his menu) onto the floor. When he started quacking loudly, making the other tables around us turn and look at him, I'd had enough. Unfortunately, this coincided with the arrival of dinner. The Husband ate first while I walked with him, and then we switched. Most of my dinner is in the refrigerator downstairs. Some nights are like that.
I swore, long before he was born, that Will would never be allowed to be that kid in the restaurant--the one who carries on and acts so horribly while his parents go about their business like it's not ruining everyone else's meal. I'd rather take it to go than have to worry that everyone is thinking bad thoughts about my child.
So far, we hold our record in restaurants in tact.
I do, however, think we've tipped huge since he was born. What with the food all over the floor and all...
Off to get the baby up and start our day. Happy Monday, all.
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