We were at an evening wedding reception this weekend (congrats, Nick & Nikki!). It had been a busy day: 4-hour-drive; rushed, mosquito-filled, toddler-refused picnic lunch; seeing and touring and touching and riding trains at the train museum (aka 3-year-old nirvana; a nice little nap break (aka the wedding itself); and then an interminable wait in a really neat building with lots of chairs and tables and doors and potted plants and a pool that wasn't for swimming ("neena go swumming!!!"). And then when the food finally came, it wasn't something yummy like chicken nuggets, it was weird noodles with lots of vegetables, and no sauce (pasta primavera).
Of course, B dug right in (literally--ignoring the bread I'd given her, and trying to grab the tomatoes and zucchini on my plate), while J refused. After a while, both kids were getting really restless, so we were about to leave, when they announced that the cake was ready, and to come up and get it. So, we decided to buy a few more minutes with friends, and took the kids up to get cake. There were several different types, I grabbed a piece of chocolate raspberry; Dave a piece of almond buttercream. We decided to let J have a piece despite his lack of eating supper, and since the line was piling up behind us, I snagged the smallest piece I could find quickly--a piece of chocolate. J made a face when he tried it, but ate most of it, and was well-behaved while we ate and chatted for a bit longer.
We got back to the hotel and watched TV while the kids wound down. Around 11, Dave and B were asleep, I was nearly there, and J was still resisting like a pro--bouncing, kicking, squirming, rolling, fussing. Somehow, he was still wired; he just wouldn't lie down and go to sleep!
Finally, as he began to drift off, I had a sudden, clear flashback to the reception.
I didn't bring him a piece of chocolate cake. I had taken a piece of mocha.
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