Here's hoping she makes it through another week. She's the Maid (Matron? Maidtron?) of Honor in a wedding next Saturday. And if she has the baby – we're going to need to buy a smaller dress.
A good writer would put in a transition here to lead you into their next thought.
Last week while we were out to dinner there was a couple across the aisle with their three kids. They seemed like nice people, despite the fact that Dad couldn't seem to keep the back of his pants pulled up. The kids were pretty well behaved – for kids anyway. I really tried to pay them any attention. (Honestly, I was too busy rolling my eyes at the restaurant staff who seemed to have a "Happy Birthday" song for everyone in the room.)
But then on the way out the Mom stopped at our table and told us "Enjoy this while it lasts. By the look of you, you won't be eating dinner alone for much longer."
So we're off to dinner with some friends tonight. For the immediate future, this will likely be our last "nice dinner out" with friends that doesn't involve either:
- A babysitter,
- Wanting "fries with that,"
- Praying the baby doesn't wake up before we can finish our entree, or
- A large animatronic rodent and his pals singing about their love of skee ball.
I like skee ball.