Date Night 2006

Last night was Date Night 2006.  I specify the year because, for the five baby-having months of 2005, there was only one date night.  Now, I'd hate for it to become a singular, once-a-year tradition, but you never quite know about these things. 

Yes, last night, my parents arrived at our house to take charge of The Bean (they came to us because, frankly, who has the sustained muscle strength and convoy of trucks to move the three and a half tons of plastic that accompanies the baby everywhere?).  Their job was simple - make sure no evil befalls the baby on their watch.  When you're a parent, nothing seems far-fetched.  As I closed the front door behind me, I had what I felt were perfectly reasonable visions of baby-stealing gypsy invasions, the sudden discovery that infants can indeed flush themselves down toilets, bizarre diaper changing accidents, pacifier ingestion...you name it.  If you've done something similar (ie, left your poor infant with even the most trusted loved ones), you know the feeling.  It didn't help that, throughout the evening, I had terrible flashbacks revolving around those things I was able to get away with while growing up under their roof.  And who were these parent people anyway?  I mean, if nothing else, they haven't done this for, like, years!  They've gotta be a little rusty.  What happens if Mia suddenly decides that she wants to eat the cat.  The cat's old.  It can't fight back.  And my none-too-spry parents might not be able to mirror my own appropriately dubbed cat-like reflexes and pull the cat's tail from Mia's throat in time.

Needless to say, there were no gypsy attacks.  No cats were consumed.  Mia didn't suddenly gain mastery over gravity and learn to flush herself down the toilet.  Instead, she slept.  The one thing Beth and I can't seem to get her to do on her own, she does without us there.  Of course, Beth and I got the chance to talk, to relate to one another...something we don't do much of with her there.  So we're even.