14 February 2007

Once upon a time . . .

there was a fussy boy named Noel. He was the most precious baby in all the land, even if he had lately learned to scream (at least he learned to smile first).

One day, his parents went out for their first hot date since Noel was born. They made reservations at Superior's Steakhouse and filled their pockets with the gift certificate a friend had given them plus the cash Opa had given them, just for this purpose. When Aunt Emily came to babysit, she found neither parent ready, but they quickly gussied up, showed her the ropes of cloth diapering and bottle warming, and then drove away.

At the restaurant, Noel's parents were seated in the cigar room, where they feasted on Cabernet (which the wine steward recommended), bisque, spinach salad, ribeye, Dijon-crusted mahi-mahi, creamed spinach, and braised mushrooms. Meanwhile, a very tall woman sat on the leather couch with her floor-length fur coat and a glass of champagne. The men at the next table ate raw oysters. A couple nearby took a thousand pictures of each other with their one-candled cheesecake; Noel's dad said they didn't seem to speak good English, but Noel's mom still felt oddly out of her league.

An hour and a half later, they left sated and happy. Because the wind had not yet pierced their skin, Noel's parents decided they would go out for ice cream before returning home, but they first called Aunt Emily to see if she would like for them to bring her some home. She didn't answer; not a good sign. And when she called back, Noel was wailing in the background with the long, pitiful wail that says "I'm not happy, and I've not been happy for some time. I'm not hungry and my diaper is fine, and I refuse to be comforted by this aunt person, even if she was there the moment I was born. So there."

Noel's parents offered to come home, but Emily said she was fine and we should go. Good soul, patient soul. By then, Noel's parents were in their car, but they were still shivering from the cold wind and they realized they would be crazy to get ice cream, lest they remain frozen until March. Hot chocolate was what they really wanted, and they had that at home.

So, home they went. Uncle Craig was on the couch, playing a football video game, and Emily did not even look wearied, trying unsuccessfully to feed Noel a bottle. Noel's mom changed clothes quickly and held the wailer, who calmed in about five minutes and fell asleep from exhaustion.

The moral of this story: Noel is a mama's boy. But it's probably okay to be that way when you're barely over two months old.

The end.

10 comments:

Lin said...

maybe noel could sense that you were going out for icecream, & he wanted to stop you from giving him a terrible tummy ache ;)

Arthur Jackson said...

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO briliant Lindzzzzz.

Jen, thanks for storytime. I shall have to produce a story now.

Brent and Kat said...

Once upon a time...

So how jealous am I that Kat has met this wailer and I haven't? Ah, well - Hopefully rectified soon!

B

Jen Strange said...

Hmm, good theory, Lindsey. . . .

Brent! Yes, soon--Noel can hardly wait!

Kala said...

Jen, it was so good to hear from you... I can't believe you have a precious new baby that I haven't yet seen. Mom says he is adorable. Even if he has learned to scream, I maintain my offer of free babysitting, if that will get you to move to Stillwater. much love!

Shannon said...

That bedtime story definitely makes me tired! I'm going to keep it in my nightstand for the next time I have an urge to bring home another sweet baby...maybe it'll postpone the urge for a while. How quickly we forget.

But I am SOOO proud of you & Micah for getting out. And kudos to brave auntie & uncle!

Maybe the fur coat lady would have let you borrow her warm coat for the ice cream. In my mind she looks like Cruella DeVille.

Jen Strange said...

Well, Kala, your mom hasn't seen this "adorable" one wailing :) But we pretty much think he's still cute even when he's fussing.

And Shannon . . . Cruella DeVille is exactly the right image. Weird, now that I think of it, how much that woman looked like her. Now there's a Literary Ball figure for you :)

Micah said...

Cruella's champagne glass had a thick semi-circle of lipstick along the edge.

Shannon said...

Yuck-o, Micah. I bet it was a weird red-orange shade, too. Gross. Did she have one of the long cigarette holders?

BTW, I think I'd want to be Scout in the ham costume for the literary ball.

Heather Jamison said...

Cute story. Thx for sharing;).