Today I drove into Manhattan to see my friend Andrea and her husband Craig for brunch. Since I’ve become a mother, my concept of time has gotten a lot better, which means instead of being perpetually late for things (as I was when I was childless) I am now incredibly early for things.
We were supposed to meet up at noon, and I got to the city at 1o:30am. So Ari and I strolled around in search of a playground to kill time at.
I took Ari to an beautiful playground on 10th Avenue in Chelsea. It was so nice, I considered getting married to Wil there. My doula, Cori, paid $15 for a city permit and got married at the Park Slope playground.
Ari was having a lovely time as I pushed him on the swing. He kept saying “again!” And I kept on pushing. Until I had to pee. Yes, one of the many joys of pregnancy struck again.
I found a charming family owned Italian restaurant nearby. They agreed to let me use their facilities. The manager was Israeli and we got to talking about Judaism and Israel. He was excited when he found out Ari’s name and impressed by the Hebrew name I had picked out for upcoming baby girl.
As I was talking to him, I discovered that I really liked the restaurant’s ambiance. I began to fantasize about having my wedding reception there. It was intimate and I liked the fact that it was family owned. I mentioned this to the manager and his face lit up.
“Actually, I happen to be on the phone with the owner right now!” He smiled and handed me the phone.
The owner was really sweet and so easy to talk to. She said she’d just gotten married herself, but couldn’t get used to using the word “husband” and kept calling her husband her boyfriend by mistake. Somehow, we got on the topic of astrology and I asked her what her sign was. She said she was a Capricorn with a Leo rising.
I was having a very pleasant conversation with the owner, and then…all of a sudden…I heard Ari whisper something.
“What?” I couldn’t quite hear him.
“Cookie.” He said loud and clear.
“Oh,” I replied, still on the phone with the owner of the restaurant and trying desperately to continue my first adult conversation in who knows how long.
“Cookie?” He repeated with a face full of hope.
“Well, I don’t have a cookie,” I searched around the restaurant for the manager “I’m sorry to bother you, do you have some bread he could have?”
“Sure!” The manager replied graciously and immediately handed me a large chunk of baguette.
“Thank you so much!” I said attempting to return to my conversation. I handed the bread to Ari while cradling the phone in my ear.
“No! No bread!” He exclaimed “COOKIE!” He insisted.
I tried to ignore it. I tried to continue my conversation. But he just kept shouting that dreaded word.
“I’m sorry, my son is freaking out. I think I’d better go.” I told the owner.
“No that’s totally understandable!” She said and gave me her cell phone number to call her another time.
Eventually, I had to excuse myself from the restaurant because he was hysterical.
As we walked down the street I attempted to reason with him.
“Ari, do you want a cookie?”
He just screamed. So I stopped asking questions and looked for a place that would take a debit card and had cookies. All I had was $3.00 in my checking account. I had to be creative.
And then, there it was:
When I entered D&D, the clerk saw how hysterical Ari was and how desperate I was for relief. She handed Ari this:
It took a while to convince him to even try it. When I initially handed it to him, he said.
“No no no no no! Cookie!”
And I replied “Ari, this is LIKE a cookie.”
After much convincing, he tried it and liked it.
Then I introduced what this new treat was called:
He still insisted that it was called a cookie and wanted to eat another “cookie” off of a straw.
Kids are so complicated.
By the time that that he got his sugar fix, it was 11:45am, and time to leave to meet Andrea and Craig for brunch. Guess what we brought them?