Last night, as Jeff and I were on one of our rather rare dates – lovely dinner at Vinegar Hill House – I received a phone call from our babysitter. I couldn’t understand a word she was saying. All I heard was Arthur’s hysterical screaming in the background and Julian’s distress when he tried to tell me over the phone what very important item he was unable to find, which apparently led him to start crying in his bed and ultimately waking up his brother. The plastic carrot for his stuffed animal bunny, Hoppel. Hoppel was hungry. He needed that carrot. Now. Arthur, however, was tired and still recovering from 3 vaccinations he received the day before. He couldn’t have cared less about the carrot.
We told our sitter to put the kids back to bed and give it 20 minutes. When we learned Arthur was still crying, we took our last quick sips of wine and rushed home. This is the photo our sitter sent us:
Arthur greeted me with the hug of a lifetime upon our return. I put him back to bed and retrieved the damn carrot from under Julian’s bed and placed it on the floor next to his alarm clock.
Then I went ahead and ate popsicles and cookies in bed, next to my passed out husband, feeling really glad that we had a these crazy kids to come home to. It didn’t feel like our date was cut short at all. We had such a lovely time out together, and we were both equally happy to come home.
The next morning Julian woke up and happily proclaimed that he found his carrot.