After Janice spontaneously took pity on me and literally forced us out to dinner, Chad and I found ourselves at one of our favorite restaurants last night with time to kill. There was a long list of people in front of us, so we cozied up to the bar with a glass of wine to wait it out.
Heading out to dinner by ourselves, which used to be just another weekday or weeknight for us, has become very rare - and quite a production. We schlepped more stuff over to Janice's than I take for a weekend away: a Pack n Play, blanket, diapers, milk, toys... The idea of getting everything around to go anywhere could turn me into a hermit pretty easily.
As we were sitting in the middle of the very crowded restaurant, I found myself anticipating the days when we can drop Jackson off at his aunts' and uncles' with nothing more than a pair of pajamas, send him over to play with his cousin or a friend down the street at a moment's notice, or even bring him with us to a restaurant (since of course he will always be well behaved and polite).
I was thinking the rest of this year might be challenging but that by this time next year Jackson would be easier, on a more set bedtime schedule and not so unpredictable from a temperament standpoint. Short answer: definitely by the age of three but I'm banking on two.
Curious what Chad thought of this timetable, I asked him when he thought we'd be at the point where it will be easier to go out to dinner again.
He paused. He looked at me.
Oh for heaven's sake, I said. Be optimistic.
"Probably when he's old enough to stay home by himself."
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