Best...Kid...Ever

This evening, we ventured to an Italian restaurant called Villagios. Erin and I actually had breakfast at their sister restaurant, Village Cafe, this morning and were impressed with the food. Villagios had a nice range of options, offering everything from spaghetti with meatballs to various veal and seafood dishes. We all had great dinners, and we were excited to find a restaurant that we all enjoyed up here in the woods.

After dinner, we had tickets for a production by the American Folklore Theater. The show was called A Cabin With A View, an adaptation of "A Room With A View." We had made the decision, perhaps against our better judgment, to all go to this show and take Grant along for the ride. He's generally very good at going out to eat, church, etc, so we really weren't concerned about taking him.

We arrived at the amphiteater tonight, and I was immediately struck by how big an operation this really was. The theater is situated in the woods of the Peninsula State Park and featured seating for several hundred people, perhaps more. Our reserved seats were dead center in the fourth row.

This was already making the wife nervous. She would have felt much better had we had seats on the end so that she could bolt if Grant started getting wound up, but he's usually so content that it's not a problem. I convinced her that everything would be fine, and the show began.

Now before you get ahead of me, Grant did very well through the beginning of the show. He sat on my lap and watched and listened intently to the show. About 35 minutes in, he started getting a little restless. Erin decided that a bottle would do the trick, so amidst his fidgeting, I started feeding him. (Notice that I said this was Erin's decision. The assignment of such decisions to a particular individual are very important in these scenarios.)

Grant did, indeed, calm down a bit, which was a lucky break since we were in the midst of a quiet passage during the show. Imagine the climax of drama in your favorite film -- the moment where the lead gazes intently into the eyes of his leading lady, while she awaits him announcing his devotion. The amphitheater fell silent during such a moment. The tension had mounted as the lovers gazed into each other's souls. And then it happened.

B.....U......R......P.....

Not a little baby burp. Not a cute, cuddly little hiccup. This was a full on belch, similar to the one produced by a trucker following a stop at White Castle. It was loud. Very loud. Loud enough to elicit a laugh throughout the theater. Loud enough to stall the scene for just a second.

This was all bad enough, but once everyone else in the theater recovered, I lost it. I was still holding Grant, but I was doubled over, trying desperately to stifle my laughter. I was shaking. Completely unable to recover. The people in the rows behind and in front of us were laughing, although they had shifted their laughter from Grant to me. I was convulsing, sobbing, unable to contain myself.

I finally pulled it together, but everytime I looked at my baby boy, I lost it again. He made my evening. No, he made my vacation. I'll never forget that moment. It was priceless. He couldn't have timed it better if he'd tried.

Grant ended up sleeping through most of the rest of the play, although he did get a little antsy toward the end. After the show, several people were heard laughing about "the burp," and several people commented on how well he'd done during the show. I'm sure there were some questioning our judgment and sanity in bringing such a young child to the show, but it was worth it. He genuinely was not a problem, and I haven't laughed that hard probably since I was his age.

So Grant, you made my week. You truly proved yourself to be my boy tonight.