I have a buddy named Mary. She works a few blocks down the street from me and on occasion, though not nearly often enough, we have what we call businesswomen’s lunches.
On Saturday, Mary went and done got herself hitched.
The husband (that is, my “the husband,” not Mary’s husband) was supposed to be my date, but he punked out. “Ugh. I would have to shower,” he explained. So the baby stepped in as my date.
Not to get all Oedipal on you guys, but he was the best date ever.
He looked incredibly dashing but at the same time cool as heck because he wore his Chuck Taylors upon request of the bride. He also brought some entertainment for himself, that cheapie maze game pictured above, which he kept in his shirt pocket.
He also managed to take a semi-decent picture of me.
That’s me, wearing a red dress (scandalous), and trying to fit another White Russian in despite the faint weeping that I could hear coming from my foundation garment. Plus, I don’t normally drink White Russians, but I saw the half and half at the bar, and there was a faint Big Lebowski vibe in the air, so I rolled with it.
We had a lovely time and since it was a special occasion, I let the baby have two Pepsis. Then he sort of…bubbled over…onto the dance floor.
I sometimes feel like, when introducing my kid to new groups of people, that I should put out a disclaimer ahead of time. “He’s 7 going on 40. He has the shit-talking abilities of someone three times his age. He’s into really weird things like Godzilla and Kraftwerk and Detroit hip-hop and John Carpenter movies. He is not at all shy about speaking frankly to adults. He is one of the biggest characters you will ever meet.” I’m always nervous that he’s going to say or do something out of line, but so far (and maybe he’s just still cute enough to get away with it) he’s charmed the pants off of everyone he’s met.
So when he hit the dance floor on Saturday and immediately launched into some Bangles-esque Egyptian walking and The Robot, the wedding guests nearly fell over. As he got warmed up and more comfortable, he turned things up and eventually, there was this:
Unfortunately, the picture is dark but that is indeed my child giving the goat after some very intense air guitar.
But the best part of my son escorting me to the wedding was the fact that he gladly slow danced with me and gave me a sweet little kiss at the end.
Indeed, any future girlfriends will have to fight me for him.