There is a very sweet, kind, wonderful couple at our church that we have gotten to be good friends with since we moved here. Their kids are our age and they had their first grandchild the week before Jackson was born. Last week we got a text from them with a list of dates saying that they were free any of those nights and that they would love to watch Jackson for the evening while we went out. We took them up on their offer and decided to go to dinner and to see a show.
It was Friday night so we decided to go for a fish fry, as you do when you live in Wisconsin. We slurped down a spicy, delicious, gingery Moscow mule and ate our food in about ten minutes so we could make it to the theater to see the local production of Man of La Mancha.
As is my luck, my seat was directly behind a tall old man who had white hair that stuck out in every direction, similar to Albert Einstein. I enjoyed the first half of the show very much, despite having to crane my neck to see around Albert's hairdo. While browsing the program during intermission, I discovered that Jackson's pediatrician was playing in the pit orchestra. You can bet that's going to come up at our four-month checkup. Also during intermission we saw not one, not two, but three people that we knew who were also there to see the show. When everyone headed back to their seats, Albert and the lady next to him decided to switch spots so that I was now sitting behind a short, little, old lady whose hair was a normal size. The rest of the show was great, and made me wish I had done more theater in school, and even made me want to get involved in community theater. But then I remembered that I'm afraid of people so...
Jackson was sound asleep when we went to pick him up--as he should have been--but I was afraid that all hell was going to break loose when we tried to put him in his car seat. I don't know what kind of magic they pulled on him, but he didn't even flinch. Okay, but what about getting him out of his car seat and into his bed at home? Surely that would be a struggle. No. He stayed asleep. The. Whole. Time. And slept through the rest of the night until almost 6:00 the next morning.
I did not cry dropping him off, I did not spend the whole night checking my phone, and I spent the rest of the weekend singing "The Impossible Dream". All in all, I'd say it was a pretty successful child-free night.