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    Mummy and Daddy Dinner Date, plus one!

    Mummy and Daddy Dinner Date, plus one!

    Mummy and Daddy Dinner Date, plus one!

    Last night my husband and I decided that we would go out for dinner together having not done so for quite some time. I made the awkward phone call to my parents, firstly sussing out availability for babysitting, then setting up an acceptable timeframe (knowing in my head this would most likely not be adhered too.)

    As I am still breast feeding our baby and when your doing so there is no ability to make spontaneous plans, she had to come with us.  She was our third, like the ‘wingman’ who comes to your aid when a date goes bad, only perhaps the total opposite of this.

    We pick a nice little Greek restaurant and are met by the owner who takes one look at our pram and says ‘that’s a big one’ and shows us to a table at the very back of the restaurant. In order to get the said ‘big pram’ through the restaurant an entire table of people have to stand up and move while we manoeuvre it in. I apologise on our way past, slightly embarrassed.

    Our baby is asleep when we arrive and we sit down ready to enjoy dinner. After 15 minutes we still had no menu and no drinks order taken. Naturally our baby wakes up the moment we order and requires my hand in hers for the majority of the rest of our meal. I’ve got this, one handed eating is not so hard until I have to use my fingers to bite the pork crackle and it fly’s out of my hand and across the room narrowly missing the people we have already disturbed once when getting to our table.

    Once we finished eating we squeamishly assessed our path to exit and there was none. I couldn’t bare asking the next table to all stand up again like a guard of honour as we left the restaurant. We literally dismantled the pram to get it out. Three separate pieces!

    Opening the door and feeling that blustery cold air on our faces was something like what it would feel like being released from captivity (I imagine). Off to the car, time for home.

    Of course back at the car we discover our baby has pooped and it is now bucketing down with rain, no chance of the usual seat or boot nappy change. So, my lap it is. Let’s just say, this was not a great idea, certainly not recommended and actually not particularly pleasant when you have just eaten a lovely meal!

    So, when people say they are going on a ‘date night’ I smile and remember all the romance that once was in my own relationship, our failed attempt to recreate this ‘plus one’ and go back to scraping this mornings weetbix off my coffee table while my husband mops up the flooded bathroom floor after some unexplained game created by our children!