Last Thursday, we had Thanksgiving dinner with some relatives. I really didn’t have high expectations for Caitlyn’s behavior, and she made sure not to disappoint. The instant we step into the restaurant and people start looking at her, she begins bawling. It’s loud enough that the wife decides to take her outside until she can calm down.
Fifteen minutes into dinner, the wife is still missing, so I go off to find her. I find her pacing around outside with the baby still crying. She’s looking a bit flustered, so I know I need to watch my step. At her request, I go back into the restaurant to get the baby’s pacifier and stroller, but neither do much to calm Caitlyn down.
As I’m keeping her company, my cousin’s wife comes out to check on us. She reminds me that I’m supposed to be the expert here and wonders why I’m not in control of the situation. Well, the short answer to that is while I may be up to my neck in baby trivia, knowing and actually doing are two completely different things.
I am not a god among men, but a mere mortal. When the baby is as worked up as she is, Daddy’s pretty much useless. And when Mommy is having trouble with the baby as well, then we’re completely screwed.
It probably takes about 30 minutes to get Caitlyn settled down, during which time I'm told to go back to the restaurant to eat. The wife states that she will stay outside with the baby a bit longer. Hah! As if. I’m not about to sleep on the couch for the night for falling into that trap.
While the wife may say, “It’s OK, honey. I got it. You go back and enjoy dinner,” what she really means is, “I dare you to leave me here to suffer all by myself with the spawn of Satan.”
My cousin's wife agrees that most women do secretly wish that their husbands could suffer through the things they suffer through. But after a few minutes of stubbornly refusing to leave, I finally decide not to argue and leave my fate in the wife’s hands, though I promise to be back in a bit to check on them.
When I return, Caitlyn’s calmed down enough that we think it’s OK to go back into the restaurant, and we eventually work our way back to our table. We shouldn’t have gotten our hopes up, because Caitlyn starts crying again when we get there, and the wife is forced to take her outside yet again.
After the wife pulls another 15-minute disappearing act, I decide to throw in the towel, call it a night, and head off to find her so we can go home. The funny thing is, the moment we put Caitlyn in her car seat, she stops crying because she knows we’re going home.
She does the same thing at Jessie’s parent’s house when we go over for dinner. Caitlyn will begin fussing after she’s had her fill of being over there, and when we put her in the stroller to go home, she stops fussing. Now that’s a smart baby.
While dinner might not have been a smashing success, I’m sure we managed to make many of the people there extremely grateful for having a more agreeable baby than ours. That's definitely keeping in line with the Thanksgiving spirit. Plus, I did come out of this debacle with a juicy, turkey drumstick as take-home food. For that, I am truly thankful.
Fifteen minutes into dinner, the wife is still missing, so I go off to find her. I find her pacing around outside with the baby still crying. She’s looking a bit flustered, so I know I need to watch my step. At her request, I go back into the restaurant to get the baby’s pacifier and stroller, but neither do much to calm Caitlyn down.
As I’m keeping her company, my cousin’s wife comes out to check on us. She reminds me that I’m supposed to be the expert here and wonders why I’m not in control of the situation. Well, the short answer to that is while I may be up to my neck in baby trivia, knowing and actually doing are two completely different things.
I am not a god among men, but a mere mortal. When the baby is as worked up as she is, Daddy’s pretty much useless. And when Mommy is having trouble with the baby as well, then we’re completely screwed.
It probably takes about 30 minutes to get Caitlyn settled down, during which time I'm told to go back to the restaurant to eat. The wife states that she will stay outside with the baby a bit longer. Hah! As if. I’m not about to sleep on the couch for the night for falling into that trap.
While the wife may say, “It’s OK, honey. I got it. You go back and enjoy dinner,” what she really means is, “I dare you to leave me here to suffer all by myself with the spawn of Satan.”
My cousin's wife agrees that most women do secretly wish that their husbands could suffer through the things they suffer through. But after a few minutes of stubbornly refusing to leave, I finally decide not to argue and leave my fate in the wife’s hands, though I promise to be back in a bit to check on them.
When I return, Caitlyn’s calmed down enough that we think it’s OK to go back into the restaurant, and we eventually work our way back to our table. We shouldn’t have gotten our hopes up, because Caitlyn starts crying again when we get there, and the wife is forced to take her outside yet again.
After the wife pulls another 15-minute disappearing act, I decide to throw in the towel, call it a night, and head off to find her so we can go home. The funny thing is, the moment we put Caitlyn in her car seat, she stops crying because she knows we’re going home.
She does the same thing at Jessie’s parent’s house when we go over for dinner. Caitlyn will begin fussing after she’s had her fill of being over there, and when we put her in the stroller to go home, she stops fussing. Now that’s a smart baby.
While dinner might not have been a smashing success, I’m sure we managed to make many of the people there extremely grateful for having a more agreeable baby than ours. That's definitely keeping in line with the Thanksgiving spirit. Plus, I did come out of this debacle with a juicy, turkey drumstick as take-home food. For that, I am truly thankful.
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| Reading her favorite book |
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| Staring out the window |
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| Kissing Mr. Turtle |
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| Caught! |
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| The Three Amigos |
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| Caitlyn and Harry |
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| You lookin' at me?! |
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| Ready for an afternoon stroll |
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