Back to the dinner with Beautiful and her fiance, Dan, plus Dan's mother (who Beautiful was meeting for the first time) and his mother's new husband who Dan was meeting for the first time.
Little Guy was also there. He is 3-1/2. He is high spirited and a-freaking-dorable.
Among other things, Beautiful has, with consistent effort, taught Little Guy to say "excuse me" when he burps.
I mentioned that he's 3-1/2? And that he's a boy? Burping--or making burping noises--is a delightful pastime for a boy of any age. Adhering carefully to his new training, whenever he burps he gets the most impish expression on his face and proudly announces, "Excuse me! I burped!"
At dinner that night, instead of his usual exhibition of belching prowess, he leaned forward in his booster seat and made a different noise.
Beautiful looked him in the eye--concealing the amusement that was creeping onto her face--and said, "Say 'excuse me.' "
"But 'excuse me' is for burps," he reasoned with her, "I farted!"
If the whole restaurant hadn't heard the act itself, they certainly were caught up with the details by now . . .
Beautiful and I had to look away so Little Guy wouldn't see us giggling. After all, he was making a sensible argument.
Grandma Robin didn't miss a beat. "You're right, Honey, 'excuse me' is for burps. When you pass gas you say 'pardon me.' "
Little Guy bought it hook, line and sinker. Gotta admire a woman who can outwit an irresistible 3-1/2 year old and keep a straight face about it!
Meanwhile, Hubby and I were sitting at opposite ends of the table. I wanted Hubby to make a toast, but I didn't want to give him instructions in front of everyone. I wanted it to look like he came up with it on his own.
From my end of the table I made eye contact. I lifted my glass and mouthed "a toast?" to him. He nodded. And then went on with his conversation.
Fifteen minutes later I was certain he had forgotten what I asked him to do. Certain because all the guys were knee deep in a discussion about original and reproduction car parts--the only subject they all have in common.
Once again I caught Hubby's eye, pointed to my nearly empty glass and pantomimed "toast." He nodded in agreement again. And then I saw him nod at the wait staff. It suddenly made sense to me. He didn't realize I was asking him to propose a toast, he thought I was asking him to order me a Coke.
Giving up, I walked to his end of the table and whispered to him, "I hoped you'd make a toast. Something about joining families maybe?"
"Already thought of it!" he crowed. Loudly. So that now everyone at the table knew I had been attempting to tell him what to do . . .
I sat back down and my sweet Hubby started. It was long-winded because once Hubby gets going it's hard to stop him. And he often forgets his roadmap. And he detours . . .
It began well: he mentioned how pleased he was that Dan and Little Guy are joining our family. And how wonderful an addition Lily is. He said something about Dan's mom visiting and about her new husband also joining the family. And the new husband's affinity for classic cars. Then there was some meandering, and finally hubby ended by toasting Dan's mother's new husband's connection with someone who can get a discount on reconditioned car parts . . .
We all raised our glasses and drank a toast to, "discounts on reconditioned car parts!"