Dairy Queen

Yesterday afternoon I was able to take advantage of the fact that both my children were sleeping at their Grammy’s and dash out to the J. Crew sample sale. I assured my mom that Graham was well-fed and should be good for at least 90 minutes and that I had my phone with me, etc.

When I got there the line was halfway down the block but I waited and got in in under 15 minutes. Predictably, it was total chaos inside so I stuck to the two categories I was most interested in – kids and the J. Crew Collection pieces – an ended up snagging something from each. A cashmere sweater for V and a gorgeous lace and sequin dress for me that, while ambitious now, *should* fit me by my company’s holiday party.

As soon as I got out on the street I immediately texted my mom to see how things were going. V had woken up and was just watching some tv and Graham was fast asleep. I hustled my way back to the train to get back to them (3 stops). As I approached my mom’s apartment door, I could hear Graham wailing (the dude can really, REALLY throw it down). The first thing I see when I open the door is Virginia standing on a stepstool in the kitchen, buck naked, eating out of a tub of Breakstone’s with a spoon.

“Hi Nakie! Are you…eating butter?”
“Uh huh.”
“It’s good.”
“Don’t eat too much butter. I have to take Graham now”

I nursed Graham immediately and my mom went to deal with the butter queen.

“That’s enough butter Virginia.”
“But I’m in my butter house, where I eat all the butter!” (Now our favorite sentence of the month)
“How about a spoonful of peanut butter instead?”
“Can I have a *little* more butter?”

As a compromise V had a spoon of half butter and half peanut butter that she proudly strutted back into the living room to show me.

Deal with it, Bloomberg.


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