A Pair of Quick Learners

My son is only 17 months old, and already he’s committed his first crime—corruption of a minor.

My wife and I were spared the cliché of finding out via a policeman’s knock at the door. Instead, notification came by way of a relative’s text message: “Hi cuz! We are in the airport. Amelia just finished her bottle and joyfully threw it on the floor. Fast learner!”

This would have seemed implausible before we all met in New York for Passover, the Jewish holiday that ended earlier this week. Amelia, a Southern belle from North Carolina, is three weeks older than my son, Elijah, and the picture of gentility. She is the Emily Post of babies.

Every move Amelia makes is gentle, deliberate. Hugs and kisses flow from her like water in a riverbed. Bows and barrettes placed in her hair actually stay there. She is as close to the perfect baby as I’ve ever seen.

My son, on the other hand, is rough and tumble, running and climbing without fear. He is no less affectionate than his cousin, but let’s just say that we call his favorite game “snuggle attack.” And when he eats, he shoves so much food into his mouth that he looks like a chipmunk on steroids.

Generally, Elijah is a ball of positive energy, full of smiles and giggles. From time to time, however, he has started acting out and tossing food, sippy cups, and more. While he has quite an arm, we’ve begun to discipline him rather than anoint him the next Sandy Koufax.

We hoped that spending time with his cousin would allow some of her qualities to rub off on Elijah. It did. Thanks to her, he now runs around saying, “Whoa!” which is a pretty cool addition to his vocabulary.

When we got off our plane from New York to LAX, after sitting on the tarmac for over an hour before takeoff: “Whoa!”

When we walked into a friend’s home and two large dogs charged him with tails wagging furiously: “Whoa! Whoa!”

Amelia, apparently, came away with something from these interactions as well. Too bad her education had less to do with language and more to do with tossing bottles. Consider this my official apology to her parents.

And yet I must admit that I’m pretty happy about all of this. I like the fact that the little ones learned something from each other after spending only a couple of days together.

In fact, I’m ecstatic—and I think Amelia’s parents are too—because this looks like the beginning of something.

only in the A… « Us, Bottles, and Friends

Of course I had to make the trek across the country to Atlanta to see the homie elrock’s commencement from  grad school. But given the 20 months that had passed since my last visit, I had forgotten a few of the finer things offered in hotlanta…like the default tea coming with a side of diabetes…or the red dirt that you can’t seem to get out of your air max 90’s air pocket…or the large acceptance of gentlemen’s clubs as a leading choice for the evening’s activity…or the likelihood of the dj taking the typical down south set and breaking it out by actual cities (Memphis stand up…Tupelo where you at?)…

By far the most distinguishing factor of the A vs other cities would have to be the ferocity with which the ladies get their hollerage on. Visiting as a man who merely resembles a gentleman who might be interested in a southern belle’s company guarantees the full on bachelor tv show treatment. The ladies take general receptivity and turn it up to one hunnid. Don’t believe me? Well I have a slightly intoxicated and mildly fabricated story to prove it…

The last time I touched down in Georgia *Ray Charles voice* I decided to trick off some of my starwood points and stay at the W. As I waited for one of the homies who happened to be running behind to scoop me, I made my way up to the famous whiskey blue lounge for some of their namesake liquid delight. Given the relative youngness of the night, it was pretty slow and I had my choice of seats at the bar. This particular whiskey blue had outdoor seating which the other drunks had decided to hold down. While I chose to limit the amount of distance between me and the bottle, they selected the scenic views of the city along with rather attractive cocktail waitresses. It’s all about priorities folks…

Interestingly enough all of the waitresses were required to come back to the bar to collect the good time juice for their patrons. I then realize my decision was indeed a wise one. While I’m enjoying one of Kentucky’s finest bourbons, I notice one of the waitresses paying extra attention to me. As a professional eye flirt, I was able to pick up on her optical gestures in my direction. Given her cute face combined with ample bosom for post coital napping, I didn’t turn away from said gestures.

After my second drink, I realized the homie would be arriving soon so I decided to drop off some of my newly collected liquids before closing my tab and heading out. Upon returning to the bar, I notice the same waitress headed directly towards me with an accelerated pep in her step.

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