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  • Baby's Boat Basin Blues

    OK, this pic of Hugo's 1st ice cream cone is the farthest thing from the blues, but let me explain.

    This eve a friend had the bright idea to meet up for drinks after work.  But usually "drinks after work" is too late or too early for me to make it, and besides, usually drinks after work means a venue that isn't Hugo-friendly, so we pass and go to the park and play in their water sprinklers before his bed.

    But as this meeting was slated for the 79th street Boat Basin, an outdoor cafe where they serve all the food in baskets and the odd Goldfish cracker hurled wouldn't make the diners gasp, we hot-footed it there.  Especially as other friends with kids similarly leapt at the rare chance to be in public, around drinks and with their kids. 

    We made it in record time.  It was lovely to see people.  But once we got a table, Hugo quickly grew bored.  Also, there were many cups and jugs of water and he was outside so it took a few minutes for me to realize he thought we were to have our evening ritual -- namely, go outside and play with water until bath time when there's more water.  My kid is part fish or something.

    So the other kids, who were at least a year older and far wiser, watched as a cranky Hugo complained and lusted to run around.  He's never a trouble at a restaurant and so you would've heard me saying to all assembled, "I know you won't believe this, but he's never like this."  They took it in stride, one parent talked of "witching hour" as if it were a time I'd be well acquainted with.  I'm not.  It sounds like the opposite of Happy Hour and as we hurtle towards two, I'm thinking I will be.  Awesome. 

    Anyway, as soon as we left, Hugo was Mr. Perfect again.   On the way back to the car (free spot!) I ran into an old Comedy Central pal, followed by a truTV colleague.  Hugo was delightful and serene throughout, but for fairness sake I had to tell them they'd missed a real crank attack.

    On the way back to the car, Mr. Crank, who had only had a banana and some crackers for dinner, was treated to his first ice cream cone.  First he was wondering why I'd given him something so cold.  Then, he laughed with delight after every bite.  I got out my camera in time to catch him as he had mastered the art of enjoying nice cream. Yes,I feel like calling it nice cream.  You will too after watching this.

     

    That's it for now virtual pals.

    Lotsa lurve,

    xoxo,

    Susie 


  • Winter Weekend of Our Discontent

    Let's ignore the fact that it rained enough to have us polishing up our arks.  And forget that my husband spent the entire weekend cursing the skies and this country as he booked and unbooked and booked a Utah ski trip that, in the end, never happened.  And never mind that I was still sick and worked so much last week I had no time to think let alone make any plans for stormapalooza. 

    Because if you ask my Hugo, it was an awesome weekend.  Bubbles. Grandma.  Ice Cream. 

     

    Oh and forget the fact that Hugo had his first-ever teething-related misery all weekend long.  Many tears were kissed away and many times his body melted to the floor like a dying swan.  But instead of looking back and remembering my perfect baby being a perfect crank, let's remember the ice cream, shall we?  Yes we shall as it was captured on video.  No, nothing could be finer, than ice cream at a diner.   



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