Why We Shouldn't Go Out, or Happy Valentine's Day

  McKay and I had planned a very traditional Valentine's Day, keeping it sweet and simple. Reservations at Chinese restaurant? Check. Chocolates? Check. Redbox movie? Check. What could go wrong, right?

  RIGHT?

 We arrive at the restaurant at 6:00. After a short wait, we're lead to the table right next to the kitchen, tantalizing smells wafting out to us every time the door swings open or shut.

  6:30, we finally meet our waitress. On the plus side, it gives us time to get our order all sorted out: shakes, egg roll appetizers, chicken chow mein, and kung pow chicken.

  7:00, our waitress finally comes back. With our shakes. The smells from the kitchen are like knives to our growling stomachs.

  We start making bets on how long it will take to get our food. McKay guesses twenty more minutes. I guess forty. McKay thinks I'm crazy.

  If only.

  On a side note, did I mention Lincoln's bedtime is 6? And we brought him with us? Because it is, and we totally did. We didn't think it would be a big deal; dinner usually takes about an hour, right? And Lincoln loves people watching, and we'd feed him off our plates to keep him nice and distracted. But after the first twenty minutes, sugar packets and spoons just aren't cutting it on the entertainment factor. Finally, McKay takes him outside to walk around a bit while we wait for our food. I tell him I'll call if it ever comes.

  Two minutes later, the appetizers finally arrive. I call McKay and he hurries back in. We are starving, so the egg rolls are gone within two minutes. We give the last one to Lincoln to gnaw on as a distraction, and we watch him eat it enviously.

  We wait some more.

  The time is now 7:30. I win the bet. Sort of. There's still no food. Lincoln won't last much longer. We wistfully state we should have ordered our food as take-out. Then we could be home, watching our movie while we ate, with no baby wigging out.

   LIGHT BULB.

  We snag our waitress the next time we spot her hurrying by and ask if we can get our food to-go. She agrees, and we congratulate ourselves on our awesomeness.

  7:45. The couple across from us who came AFTER us have had their food for ten minutes. We eye them jealously, our stomachs moaning in unison.

  7:50. The food comes in a giant paper bag to the sound of a Hallelujah chorus. You astute readers will notice that this is nearly two hours after we arrived.

  We rush home, put Lincoln to bed, and start our show. We rented Looper (to be watched on Clearplay, don't freak out), which we'd both wanted to see for some time.

  Two years ago, Looper would have been slightly disturbing to me. Now, McKay and I are both traumatized. We are apparently not desensitized enough to watch violence mixed with small children. When I go to the bathroom after the movie, I see that my mascara has been smeared halfway down my face. I resist the urge to go up to Lincoln's room and hold him close all night long.

  Not the best movie choice for Valentine's Day. McKay and I agree we should have gotten Pirates: Band of Misfits. We crawl into bed, thoroughly spent.



  Any of you guys have a Valentine's Day that didn't turn out quite as expected?