June 7 Photo: Drink

Most of the “drinks” in my life these days come in bottles and plastic sippy cups. Or occasionally half-full “big boy” cups. Most of the cups are covered with colorful pictures like Buzz, Woody, and Jessie from Toy Story, or cartoon trucks, or happy little ducks, or something similar. So on the special occasions when I get to drink out of a cup that breaks rather than bounces when it hits the floor, it’s a pretty big deal.

Last night was one of those big deals. My husband had picked up a couple of gorgeous steaks earlier in the week and the weather was finally cooperating enough that we could use the outside grill to cook them. So I fed the kids their own dinner earlier in the evening and while my husband was getting them bathed and put to bed, I started making our elegant dinner of fresh corn on the cob and red bliss mashed potatoes. He threw the steaks on the grill when he came downstairs and then picked out a nice bottle of red wine and poured it into a decanter.

We sat at the dining room table, just the two of us, with candlelight and soft music. We were able to have a conversation without interrupting ourselves to announce, “We do not dip our corn into our milk,” or “Stop hitting your sister,” or “You do not need to shout when we are sitting right next to you.” I had the privilege of eating at my own pace rather than shoveling in mouthfuls between shoveling food into the baby’s mouth. I could leave my steak knife to the right of my plate where it belonged instead of in the center of the table where neither child could reach it. At the end of the meal, my napkin was nearly pristine instead of being coated in mashed bananas and arrowroot cookie crumbs and baby snot. There was nary a toy truck nor a teething rattle anywhere in sight.

But the best part was that when we’d finished eating, there was no rushing to get up. We both simply eased our chairs back, stretched out a bit, sighed contentedly, and silently raised our glasses full of liquid bliss. Cheers!