Sunday, 15 April 2012

"Dating...Daytona Style"

'Bang-Bang' the giant baby
Last night, my first date in awhile ended in a threesome.  Seriously.

You see the husband and I went on a date...well sort of.  'Bang Bang' (the baby's current nom de jour) had to accompany us as there was no way in hell my father ('Grandpa') was going to be left with three boys on his own.  And who can blame him?

We're currently holidaying in Daytona Beach, Florida, staying at Grandpa's condo on the beach and stuffing ourselves silly with ice-cream sandwiches and delicious fresh fried fish sandwiches.  The boys have already decided that they would like to forego a formal education in favour of staying here with Grandpa indefinitely.  And fair play to them.

A few days ago Dumpie came up to me at breakfast and whispered, "Can you PLEASE change our tickets so we can stay with Grandpa for at least forty more days?"  And this morning Egg crept over to me as I awoke, took off his specs, wiped his eyes and told me that he woke up with tears because we only have four more days left here with Grandpa.  Bless...

Anyway, back to the date:

My father had kindly offered to watch the two elder boys, Eggie and Dumps, while the husband and I went out for a night out on the town and enjoyed a nice meal together.  (Avec 'Bang Bang' but still...)

As sole breastfeeder (hey the husband is welcome to give it a go), I was nominated designated driver whilst my martini-marinated hubby sat in the front seat and shouted out directions which eventually led us to Daytona Beach's premiere Sushi Bar/Japanese Restaurant.  It slowly dawned on me that despite being asked where I would prefer to sup, we were always going to end up there anyway.

Still, it was lovely.  Some ice cold chardonnay and several veggie sushi rolls later saw us happily munching across the table at each other, banging away at our favourite subject ('How on earth do we become independently wealthy so as to engender a future of limitless travel and creative opportunities'....blah blah blah....we'll let you know when we figure that one out).

Despite having a two month old harnessed to his front, and being forced to eat his second course standing upright whilst animatedly jiggling about in the dimly lit romantic restaurant (it was a total date trap - even the loos had mouthwash and breath mints lined up for later snogging opportunities) the husband looked gleeful to be spooning raw fish into his mouth whilst sipping sake for England.  Good on him.

After a bit of an after dinner cruise in the car, I pulled impulsively into a late night local pharmacy for a late night comedy trawl.  The husband declined to join me, pushing his seat back for some spontaneous shut-eye (all that solo sake wreaking its' revenge I reckon) shoving a twenty dollar note at me and instructing me to come back with some treats and a pack of clove cigarettes for old times sake.

Having carte blanche like that it was no wonder that I happily perused the aisles for quite some time, picking up crazy products in wonderment ('Lazy Blanket' anyone?), finally scooping up a family sized pack of Coconut M&M's (weird) as I made my way to the counter to pay.

"A pack of clove cigarettes please" I requested from the lanky haired, slightly podgy young girl behind the counter.

"What are they?  Don't think we have 'em" she stonily declared, looking bored out of her mind.

"Umm..." I said, leaning across the counted and pointing them out.  "Over there in the brown pack."

She swiped a pack off the shelf and slowly started reading aloud, scratching her head and remarking, "I never heard of these before."

Tempting as it was to stay and educate this young lass on the merits of clove cigarettes versus your local garden variety cancer stick, I had a passed out infant and a shitty husband (sorry, I meant passed out husband and shitty infant) waiting for me back in the car and I had been gone waaaaaay too long already.

"When's your birthday?" she barked.

"October 7th" I replied, handing over the money and tapping my foot impatiently.

"I mean what year were you born?"

I grinned.  I nearly split my face open with the effort.  I wasn't hallucinating - the girl was honest to God, actually enquiring whether this bedraggled mother of three, was OLD ENOUGH to be purchasing cigarettes!!!

Talk about best night ever.  Best date ever in fact.  Even the husband's response ("It's probably because you broke out" - it's true - damn those old magazine make up samples I stupidly slathered on my face the other day) did nothing, and I mean nothing, to dampen my euphoria at having been mistaken for someone too young to buy smokables.  ("What?!" she had exclaimed when realising how old I was, "Does that happen to you a lot?" she asked stunned.  "I thought you were my age.")

I truly wanted to kiss her...take her lanky hair in my hands, pull her over the counter and place a big smackeroo on her lips.  Bless her.  That innocent question did more for my self-esteem than have all the daily beach runs I've been punishing myself with since I've been here.

That night, cuddled up to the husband on one side, and a mewling, slightly too-big-for-his-stage newborn on the other (he looks six months - honest), I found myself in a cozy threesome.  Now if that isn't the best result one can hope for from a date night I don't know what is.

Grandpa and Bang Bang

Dumps and Bang Bang holidaying at Grandpa's in Florida


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