How My Boys Roll
We went to a wedding yesterday. Actually we went to a wedding reception since one of us, and I'm not pointing fingers, thought that the wedding started 2 hours later than it actually did. The other one of us, the one that only knows things like shower, shave and show-up when told, had no idea when the wedding was. In fact, the latter wouldn't have even made it the reception at all if Anthony hadn't told him there was going to be beer there.
So we were two hours late. Whatever, they got their gift and I had a couple glasses of cheap wine. All is fair, yada, yada.
I was standing next to the bar, because, duh, and someone yells for me to look at my son. My eyes scanned the horizon until they landed on Thing 2 dancing with the bosom of a well-endowed ex-coworker. Everybody needs a bosom for a pillow. It made me a little bit proud.
"No," said the yeller. Who yells at wedding receptions? "Your other son."
I continued my scan, checking periodically back to said bosom, just to make sure my boy was okay. I found Thing 1 sprawled on his back on a grassy knoll. He had three little girls kneeling around him. One was running her fingers through his hair. One was swaying to the music and appeared to be singing, although I'm not sure that a 6-year-old would know the lyrics to Safety Dance, but I digress. The third little girl was feeding him grapes. Really. He was lying on his back and she was putting grapes in his mouth one at a time. It was freaking brilliant.
I don't know if they were peeled, but it's a start.