Date Night

Picture this:

You are getting ready for your first date. You have been anxiously anticipating this night for weeks. All day long you think about what you're going to wear, how you'll fix your hair and wonder why the hours are dragging by so slowly. Finally, your date arrives. You try hard to only let an appropriate amount of excitement show, so as not to scare him off with the depth of your feelings for him. You ride together in his car, and suddenly you find there is nothing to talk about. Instead, you listen to music he has picked out and pretend to like it. He takes you somewhere nice to eat and you are careful about what you order, knowing first impressions are everything. You talk during dinner, and things go well. Ultimately, though, before the night is over, you do something embarrassing. You want to go home. Even though he acts like it's not a big deal, you know he's probably dying inside. How could he not be? When you finally get home, you walk in, mortified. You vow you'll never date again. It's just too hard.

Sound familiar? Or was that just me? Allie experienced her first date last night (with her daddy). And that's pretty much how it went. She had been planning the night for weeks (months, even), and couldn't have been more excited about going to Chik Fil A to play on the playground. She wore her favorite rainbow shirt and even let me wash her hair. When dad got home from school, she ran around squealing with delight.

They got to the restaurant and she went right for the playground (they ate before they left home. What a cheap date she is!). She had only been playing for a few minutes when something terrible happened. She was instantly hit with the irrepressible urge to use the bathroom. Last night's dinner just wasn't sitting well with her (with any of us, really). But she was at the top of the playground. I don't know whether or not the song, "When you're running down to first and you feel a little burst..." ran through her head or not, but the result was the same. A little boy yelled down from above, "she pooped her pants!"

Humiliated, she made her way to the bottom, where daddy tried to pretend it wasn't a big deal. He understood exactly why it had happened, and that really she wasn't to blame, but admitted that the date was over. He bought her an ice cream, placed a paper towel under her behind, and drove home. She cried, probably more embarrassed than anything else. And then she fell asleep. With the spoon still in her mouth. This is how I found them.

Daddy told her that he was going to take her out again, seeing as her date only had about 5 good minutes before the tragedy struck. She said she didn't want to go again, obviously traumatized. It took some convincing before she agreed to accept another date, to an entirely new location. She's much too young to give up on dating yet. Although, I hope that is the worst thing that ever happens to her on a date....

Later that night we were reading a book about a bear who could jump into hats. After performing this feat over 700 times, he was pooped. Allie remarked, "just like me."