A few weeks ago, Adam and I were invited to a 1st birthday party at Gymboree Play & Music. I seized the opportunity to do something alone with him, and Don spent the afternoon with the twins at a bounce house, Ollie’s Bargain Outlet, and then dinner. Adam had a fantastic time being theonly kid who could walk at the party, chasing bubbles and going under the parachute and he even seemed to enjoy a cupcake for the first time ever. I was headed home when I got a call from Don wondering if I had any clue how to help calm Avery down. He had taken the kids to a Japanese steakhouse we’ve visited numerous time before, and for whatever reason, she freaked out when they sat down – full on screaming, crying, blubbering fit. I was at a loss. So was he. I was glad I wasn’t there, honestly, though I did feel bad for them both. He finally managed to calm her down, but she didn’t eat much. I sort of figured it was because I wasn’t there and we moved on.

Fast forward to tonight, when we were planning to go to Lowe’s to stock up on some plants for me to kill over the course of the summer. I mentioned going to dinner, and normally the kids are all over going to a restaurant. Avery and I were alone by the pool when she asked me (more like clarified for me in case I had any ideas) that we would not be going to one of those restaurants where you can see them cook the food. I asked why, since we’ve been there before, she likes the food, etc. and she said she just didn’t want to go. I pressed her a little more and got this response: “Well, I’m just not a fan of Chinese food.” The kid won’t even be 3 until next week. As usual, I was left speechless, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.