Oh, waitress!

Babykins likes to talk.  She also likes to boss people around.  Which means restaurants are practically like playgrounds for her.

Our first morning in our new place we decided to head to a local diner for some breakfast.  As we read through the menu, we asked Babykins if she'd like pancakes for breakfast.  Her little face lit up and she started talking excitedly about pancakes.

When the waitress arrived at our booth, before she could even ask what we wanted, Babykins turned to her  and cried out, "Pancakes!"  The waitress laughed and wrote down her order.  Babykins saw this, realized she had just done something exciting, turned back to the waitress, and exclaimed, "Milk!"  The waitress wrote this down as well, asked Hubbykins and I what we wanted, and left to put in our order.

The ordering fun over, Babykins climbed down from her highchair and proceeded to make the rounds of the diner, saying, "Hi" to the other diners and making friends.

Just as she was getting ready to head back to our table, she looked up and found herself face to knee with the waitress.  Babykins seized the moment.  She drew a deep breath, pointed her little finger, and with an excited, "Pancakes, milk!  Pancakes, milk!" reminded the waitress of her order.

Needless to say, when the waitress arrived at our table a few minutes later, there was a plate of warm pancakes and a cup of cold milk especially for Babykins.  She had given an order and it had been followed to the letter.  Babykins was quite pleased.

Darn you, Technology!

Our monitor broke.  So I took the opportunity to buy a video monitor.

It is addictive.  I barely slept last night.  How am I supposed to go to bed when I can just lie there and watch Babykins sleep?

I used to scoff at the idea of a video monitor, but now I don't know how I survived the last 21 months without one.

Oh, evil, evil technology.

All Grown Up?

I've been very sad lately to notice that Babykins has started calling me "Mom."  I loved being Mama.  I was surprised when she began calling me "Mommy," but it was still very cute.  But the introduction of "Mom" has made me realize that my baby is growing up.

She's taken it one step farther with Daddykins, though.  We were at the zoo a couple days ago, and I wanted to get Hubbykins' attention to point out the baby giraffe.  I was holding Babykins, so her head was right next to my face when I called out, "Hubbykins!" (OK, I actually called his name, so if you happen to know his name, picture that.  If you don't know his name, feel free to make one up.)  He didn't hear me, so I called again, louder.  He still didn't hear, so I called one more time.

Seconds later, I hear Babykins pipe up in her high-pitched voice, calling him by name, as well.  It was cute, and, I assumed, it was a one time event.

Since then, though, whenever Babykins reallllly wants Hubbykins' attention, she looks at him hard, takes a deep breath, and calls his name.

Talk about all grown up.

Why I Worry

Last week the Babykins family was living in a hotel.  As a result, we spent a lot of time eating at restaurants.  Luckily for us, Babykins is a restaurant champ.  She colors.  She plays with her toys.  She takes us for walks around the restaurant.  She even (occasionally) eats some food.

Wednesday night we went to Bubba Gump's to take advantage of the outdoor seating that is conveniently located next door to an outside bar with live music.  The meal started out beautifully when the waiter brought Babykins a balloon (are all of the experienced parents out there cringing, yet?).  She loved it.  She bopped it on my head.  She shook it back a forth.  I'm pretty sure I even saw her lick it.  Score!

When I tried to tie the balloon on to her chair, Babykins held out her hand and said - rather sternly - "No, Mama, stop!"  I explained that if she let go it would float to the ceiling and we wouldn't be able to get it back.  To which she replied, "Babykins hold it!"  So I reminded her to hold on tight and went back to eating my dinner.

Much to my surprise, 10 minutes later Babykins still had a firm grip on the balloon string.  I was just starting to relax when Babykins leaned over the table to grab a crayon and start coloring.  I watched in dismay as the balloon slipped from her grasp.

The tears came fast and heavy, but our waiter had the solution.  Within moments he was back at our table with another balloon.  An identical balloon.  But it wasn't the same.

Babykins just continued to cry and pointed at the ceiling, insisting she wanted the "nother balloon."  I was ready to turn this into a life lesson kind of moment when our waiter came out of nowhere with a bar stool and another very tall waiter in tow.

He placed the bar stool under the balloon, made the other waiter climb on, and when the combined height still wasn't enough to reach the balloon, encouraged the waiter on the chair with, "Come on man, be a hero.  Jump!"  When that still didn't work, he disappeared for a moment and returned with a ruler and a broom.  Each had a healthy dose of tape wrapped around the end.  The taller waiter was once again forced onto the slightly un-stable bar stool, this time with sticky implements in hand, and, as the whole section of the restaurant watched, he rescued Babykins' balloon.

It was an amazing act of chivalry by the waitstaff.  And it is the reason I worry that Babykins will one day have all of the boys in school doing her homework for her.  Her application to the convent is filled out and ready to mail.

(And yes, we left that waiter a ridiculously large tip.)