Might choke Arty, but it ain't gonna choke Stymie

They say dinner is the most important meal as far as family bonding. It's the time when families come together, share their day, and leave the table physically and emotionally refueled.

Obviously, the people who make those claims haven't had dinner at my house. Because I also come away from my table laughing.

I knew I was in for trouble as soon as I sat down for dinner the other night. Mark appeared at the table looking like a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle. He sat, smoothed his place setting, then noticed me watching him.



"What?!" he asked, as though I eat dinner with Ninja Turtles every night.

"Nothing," I answered. "Can you pass the salt, Karate Kid?"

"I'm not hungry," Mark said. Then he tucked into his dinner like it was his last.

He attacked the giant artichoke he'd picked out the night before. I selected one half the size, but Mark slapped my hand away and grabbed the biggest artichoke I've ever seen.

"This one!" he yelled. "Buy me this one!"

"I don't think that will even fit in the pot," I told him, but he wouldn't be swayed. We ended up with a two-pound artichoke which, in fact, did not fit in the pot I tried cooking it in. I figured it would take him two nights to eat that gigantic 'choke.

He dug into that monster happily, tugging off the leaves until only the suggestion of an artichoke remained. I cleaned the fuzzy parts off, and he polished off the artichoke heart, dripping butter onto the table.

"Oh my god," he moaned at the end. "I shouldn't have eaten that much..." He eyed the artichoke carcass and groaned.



He lay his head on the table for a bit, pointed at my dinner and asked, "How can you eat all that?"

"All what?" I asked. "I didn't devour my weight in artichokes like some people."

"It was...so...good," he said, like those were his dying words. "But why did you give me so much?"

"Drink your milk," I replied, which prompted the second act of his one-man-show.

"I'm so fullllllll," he grumbled. I smiled, and he sat up instantly. "Unless there's dessert..." he said. He smiled, trying to charm me in case there really was dessert.

"There's no dessert," I answered. "I don't want you to explode."

He resumed his complaining, and I gently reminded him about moderation, and how all good things come in that.

Not that I minded all that much. I mean, really, before Mark, I'd rarely seen a child willingly eat vegetables, let alone gorge himself on them. So I count my blessings (like having a child who really likes veggies) in whatever crazy, distorted way they appear.

High roller

The other night, I went to dinner with Mark and my friend Edra. In a moment of generosity, Mark fished around in his pocket, then plunked this down on the table.



"I'll pay," he told us, pointing to his giant wad of 100 bills.

I'd never seen Mark carry any money, let alone enough to stuff in a money clip disguised as a stack of Benjamins. The clip was heavy, made out of a hard plaster, and unwieldy, but hilarious. I couldn't imagine anyone carrying it around for real.

"Where'd you get that?" Edra asked, and he said he found at camp. Mark said that if he ever got mugged, he'd simply toss the money clip in one direction to fool the robber, then run away in the other direction. I said that the thunk it made while crashing on the concrete might tip off the robber that it was a fake, but Mark disagreed.

Mark was on fire that night. He put on his own little comedy show, and was cracking us up. When Edra told him she could read his mind, he said, "Oh yeah? Guess what I'm thinking about now?"

She studied him for a moment, and as she was about to answer, he yelled, "NUTMEG!" I have no idea where that came from! Edra did admit that no, she had no idea that was what he was thinking about.

But at least he was a little more observant of the people around us that night. Usually he doesn't notice anything but his dinner plate, but when the people next to us got up to leave, Mark pointed them out.

"Look, they're doing a conga line!" he said excitedly. He pointed to a tall man who was walking with his hands on his wife's shoulders in front of him.

I smacked myself in the forehead--I'd noticed that couple already.

"They aren't doing a conga line!" I hissed at Mark. "That man is blind!"

I explained he was using the woman to guide him out of the tiny restaurant, and Mark laughed, not the least bit embarrassed.

"Oh!" he said. "Well, how am I supposed to know?"

I'm beginning to think that fancy restaurants and pleasant dinner companions are waaaaay overrated. My own companion may be a little rough around the edges, but he is definitely entertaining.

Nice way to spend an evening

Last night, we had the pleasure of hosting dinner for our good friends Rob, Kelley, Romi and Marilyn. Three out of the four live in Arizona, and one lives down the street a couple miles. (Hello, Neighbor Marilyn!)

It was so much fun. We hadn't seen the Gludts for six months, which may not sound like very long, but was actually half of Romi's lifetime ago. So Mark and I were thrilled to squeeze the baby and laugh with his parents and Grandma.

Mark kept Romi suitably entertained while we made dinner. Romi liked Mark, but he liked the T.V. remote control that lights up even better. He spent most of the night gnawing on or chasing it down.

Since the weather was nice, we schlepped all the food outside to enjoy. (I only use words like schlep when Kelley's around.) We made a veritable feast of pasta, fruit, salad and garlic toast. Romi seemed to like the pasta sauce -- unfortunately, he liked to wear it more as much as he liked to eat it.

Romi was not only a good guest, he was a good audience as well. I raised my hands in the air and did a little "Ooh ooh!" club call at one point, and he laughed his cute little head off. And then implored me to repeat the "Oooh ooh!" for the rest of dinner. Which usually I wouldn't do, but how can you resist this little face, which cracked up anew each time I did it? I certainly couldn't resist him -- the force is strong with this one.

Marilyn laughed at one point during dinner, remarking that she never thought she'd be having dinner with this crowd.

"You mean Rob, Kelley, me and our KIDS?" I asked, and she laughed and said, "EXACTLY!" We all agreed she was right -- for a long time, it seemed like the only kids in our group would be Brunk kids.

And speaking of kids, we had a monopoly on the cutest ones. Not only did we have have Happy Romi, we also had Silly Mark.

After dinner, it was time to wash off all the boys. Mark and Rob headed toward the jacuzzi, and Romi won himself a free bath. He chose this moment to show us how well he could stand, but Kelley wisely nipped that trick in the bud. (Slippery bath + unstable standing baby = DANGER!)

Sadly, the Gludts eventually did leave. I was sad to see them go, but not that sad, as I will see them again tonight -- for the third night in a row! Talk about a fun week...