Monday, August 18, 2008
Yesterday as we were watching Elijah crash into things with abandon, we started our plan for the evening. Who makes Eli dinner, who makes Adult dinner, who feeds the dog, etc. Suddenly, Diana said, “Why don’t we all eat together for once?”
I was taken aback. In the 16 months Eli has been on the Earth we’ve never eaten as a family unit. Since I never get home before he goes to bed, he always stuffs his face with frozen baby food at 6 sharp and Di and I eat in front of the TV like a couple of stoned frat boys hours later.
I instantly got excited. I love anything that reminds me of romantic fatherly things like family dinners and beating children with a belt.
So Diana prepared a Fregola (tiny pasta pieces) salad and I grilled some red snapper. We dragged the high chair onto the back deck and set up for a fabulous dinner al fresco. It was like a Norman Rockwell painting. Without all the saddle shoes. We portioned out a little spoon full of Fregola for Eli and gave him some chopped up snapper.
Which he proceeded to launch to the far corners of the deck.
Great fist fulls of fish and tiny pasta pieces covered the gleeful Grover like dandruff. Diana shouted, “You put that Fregola down, Elijah Steven Hamann!” I wondered if that sentence was ever uttered before in the history of the world as I topped off our wine glasses.
Afterwards, we washed the boy off in a Normal Rockwell-esc bubble bath.
p.s. I don’t have photographic evidence of this, so enjoy today’s picture of Steve with a belly dancer. Please note the dollar in his hand and his inability to look at the woman.