When Did We Get So Old?

Last night the wondrous L arrived on our doorstep promptly at 7:30, complete with homework and cell phone (I don't know why I bother showing her where our house phone is). We quickly handed off responsibility for the children and raced out the door to enjoy our freedom.

When we arrived at a restaurant we frequent, the hostess apologized that there was a wait for a table. We jumped for joy.

M (rubbing hands with glee): "Oh no, no worries! We'll sit at the bar! Take your time!"

Hostess: "We'll try to accommodate you as soon as possible."

M: "Really, please don't..."

But, in much less time than the promised 45 minute wait, in fact before we could even finish our cocktails, our waiter appeared to escort us to the table, pleased that they could rearrange things for us. We took our time ordering appetizers, sending the poor waiter away twice. We lingered over our salad and soup, finally allowing the busboy to clear. I took small bites (not an easy feat when one is used to wolfing down meals before someone asks for more milk or a different colored plate). M oohhed and ahhhed over each sip of his cabernet.

Even with all of our stalling and lingering, it was 9:30 when we exited the building. As we climbed into our car, M asked "Were you listening to the conversation of the people next to us? They were actually debating where to go next for after dinner drinks. Can you imagine?" As hard as I tried, I couldn't. As we paid L and she hurried off to start her weekend socializing with a look of pity in her eyes, I realized that we had become the boring old folks I always laughed about with my sister after a weekend of babysitting. And quite honestly, I didn't mind a bit.