Restauranteur in Diapeurs
Our weekend was fine, thank you for asking. We had a couple friends come by on Saturday afternoon to catch up and to meet Daphne for the first time, which was awesome. They even brought Little D. her very first concert tee (Stars, in case you’re interested), which was a fantastic choice. Stars happens to have made one of my favorite videos of all time.
I love the idea of a little girl keeping a universe under her jacket.
Although their visit did shine light on just how baby-centric our house has become. There’s a SOOTHE BABY in the corner, a huge swing between the couch and loveseat, the giant Joovy Yahd by the kitchen, burp cloths and bottles on TV tables, rattles and pacifiers on the coffee table, and the whole thing resides under a slight malodorous funk emanating from the Pee Pee Efreeti.
And that’s just the living room.
Anyway, it was great to see them. Even if our home isn’t in “entertaining” shape these days.
Later on Saturday, we met my Dad and Cary at Tony’s Mexican, which we feel to rank quite highly among Houston’s Tex-Mex establishments. This marked Daphne’s second restaurant trip and she was, once again, perfectly well-behaved. And we breathed a sigh of relief on our way out. Perhaps next week she’ll be up for the Sunday Whole Foods trek, where Dad procures his weekly grilled Gruyère & Swiss on sourdough, fresh-cut fries and a pint. #suburbanthuglife
She’s also growing like steroid-infused, hydroponic Michoacán.
Which means Daphne will be making the move to her upstairs crib in the very near future. And, to be honest, I find that a little sad. I mean, I’ve gotten accustomed to waking up every morning to the sounds of her kicks and warbling…
You mean she isn’t going to do that forever?