Join the party!

The weather was glorious today. I ignored my to do list, left the breakfast dishes in the sink, threw on some comfy clothes and met some friends at the park with my Little Guy. The boys played nicely, not a speck of sand was thrown, no one cried, and I think they even managed to take turns playing with the trucks and shovels.

We decided to head out for lunch, a rare treat with the boys in tow, and went to Pita Jungle for heaping plates of delicious Mediterranean food. We had our hearts set on sitting outside, and waited fifty minutes for the privilege. To pass the time, the boys ran up and down the sidewalk. We inspected and counted all of the flowers. We played over and under the bike rack. Somehow, we kept the boys entertained and arrived at our table starving, but in good spirits.

We each ordered a beer, and settled into our seats. As our food made it to the table, my girlfriend's son choked a little on some pretzels. Not enough to warrant the Heimlich, but enough to keep him coughing, eyes watery, for at least a minute. Just when we thought he was fine, the coughing resumed and he upchucked an entire bottle of juice onto the table, the patio floor, and maybe even into the salads. After the projectile trajectory eased into a dribble, we grabbed every available napkin and my friend sopped up the mess. I don't think anyone noticed, except for our twentysomething waiter, who may now be scarred for life. She changed her little buddy into dry clothes and we resumed our meal. We had fun anyway (didn't we?).

It wasn't easy, and in the end we worked pretty hard at having some time out today. A Friday afternoon in '99 would have found us at a bar patio in downtown Atlanta, nary a child in sight. When we party like it's 2009, things are totally different.

Either way, it's like I always say... a party isn't a party, 'til somebody throws up.