Don't Drink, Have Babies
As we sat there at the table, The Chief in his first restaurant-provided high chair, I thought about how Chup and I used to lunch together nearly everyday. It was what we did. We worked from home, we went out to lunch, we took a nap, we ate candy, we ate left-overs for dinner and stayed up to IM eachother from across the hall on our respective computers.
But as much as that lifestyle was observably charming all-the-while I daydreamed of a baby. And I wanted to know that our free-spirited lifestyle--as blissful as it was--could be easily upgraded by means of an offspring. Or, in other words, my desires for motherhood weren't in vain.
At our table Chup continued to smash potatoes in a pile with tiny drops of hummus to aid in the smoothing. It made for a perfect baby food. The Chief inhaled, swashed it around with his tongue, decidedly swallowed and opened his gate for more. I have met Sean Astin in real life and still (STILL) this was undeniably the cutest thing I had ever seen. Or hope to see, because this was like heart-breaking cute. The kinda cute that makes your chest pound and see double.
"Chup. I don't care that we are commanded not to drink." I said, bringing up Mormon doctrine as I floated between the past and the present.
"Why?" He said, continuing the feeding.
"Because babies are equally intoxicating." I sighed.
They can buzz you like a trillion cocktails. Slur your speech and make you lose your mental functioning. I imagine that you never get over the hang-over. Impossible sobriety.
When The Chief was done licking our plates, he looked like the personification of a food fight. Chup cleaned him up until he was sparkling. Just like new. We took him shopping where we bought him Christmas presents . . . because we can.
Which makes me say, if you are thinking about asking for a baby for Christmas I'd give you my thumbs up. Even if Santa can't deliver your wish for awhile . . .
(take it from me)
just keep asking.