Okay, so what's going on here:
That is me and my youngest, Rosalyn, at the Buffalo Wild Wings in Newport News, VA. With one hand I am trying to eat my spicy garlic buffalo wings, with the other hand I am trying to hold Rosalyn and tear off pieces of Naan bread for her to eat to keep her from crying (she had only napped for 1 hour 20 minutes all day and was very tired -- for this reason she refused to sit in her high chair and thus I am trying to balance her in my lap in addition to everything else). I had to be very careful to make sure none of the spicy garlic sauce got onto the Naan bread, which wasn't too spicy but probably bad enough to make her rather uncomfortable.
Rosalyn and Elizabeth are great, wonderful, usually very well behaved and easy kids. Yet I often remark, as we hustle and bustle our two kids (only two!) from one place to another and soothe, feed, cajole, support, and teach them, that our mere presence in such and such a place is probably one of the best advertisements for birth control there can be. Perhaps tonight the young people at the table next to us, whose buzz was seriously harshed while my daughter cried out in indignation to the fuss fuss gods, will take the extra time to wrap it up or block it up or do whatever the hell it is that young people do these days with it to keep it from happening while it is being done.
I live to serve.
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