Tuesday is often a challenge chez WRH. But we’re getting the school pick up, other school pick up, dog walk, get changed, ballet, drawing class, soccer practice, dinner routine down. Yesterday was especially good.
For the first Tuesday since the dawn of time or at least early September, I managed to get my daughter’s hair into the very rigidly defined “ballet bun” without tears and recrimination. And it was a good one.
After I picked Ballet Bun up from ballet (that’s an excellent example of synecdoche, by the way, for those of you playing the “Who’s the Biggest Literatary Terms Geek” game at home), we stopped by the homestead to take a shower to wash the gallons of hair gel required to make the aforementioned hairstyle stay put, check in with the dog, and headed back out again. Child Masculine the Elder was with His Father at soccer or something sporty and Very Important.
Sorry. No Dogs Allowed
My girl, all showered and even be-jammied, was presented with the opportunity to select ANYTHING SHE WANTED for dinner. She picked “The Boathouse,” a local watering hole with an actual boat in it for a reason I have never fully understood given that we are landlocked here in SE Pennsylvania but whatever. She love love loves The Boathouse, and her brother does not love love love it at all but rather, if you ask him, hate hate hates it. The fact of her brother’s disdain for all things Boathouse makes her ability to choose The Boathouse extra fabulous and fun. I totally get that. I had a brother. Actually, I still do.
I was thinking that this was going to be a date for just the two of us, but the girl had other ideas. She brought a friend much to the dismay of the actual dog.
There was a wide array of dinner options…behold, the Specials Board.
But no, she ordered OFF THE MENU, because she has fancy tastes. And by “fancy tastes” I mean noodles with butter. Why she loves loves loves The Boathouse is a mystery because last time I checked, I can provide plenty o’noodles with just butter at home and I do every single day, but never mind.
There are, truth be told, other reasons to love Boathouse night with mommy. For instance, on Boathouse night with mommy, she gets to order root beer. Don’t tell her brother.
She also gets sole control of the ipod touch featuring the “Where’s Waldo” game while she waits for her spaghetti. While Mommy watches her favorite anchorman talk about the two wars we’re fighting for three minutes and figure skaters for 27.
coveted ipod touch tiny Brian Williams
Also, even if she doesn’t finish her noodles and please note the shocking lack of vegetables in this scenario, she gets to have the fancy shmancy Boathouse kids’ dessert.
When we got home and were getting ready for bed, she wrapped her tiny ice cream sandwich covered fingers around my neck and pulled me close. She whispered in my ear, “I love going to The Boathouse with you mommy. Thanks.”
Anytime, sweetie. Anytime.