It's 12:53 a.m. and Emma just went to sleep. Steve has been asleep since about 9:30 and awhile ago I took Emma in there, thinking that she'd get bored enough to fall asleep. Not so. The room was completely dark and I pretended to be asleep, but she still managed to prance around the bed, bang on the wall, fake laugh, stick her fingers in my nose and ears, pry open my lips, nurse, and twiddle for over an hour. I didn't acknowledge her once this whole time, but she wasn't deterred. When she finally fell asleep, it was hard for me to sneak away quietly because I really wanted to dance around and leap for joy.
Sometimes, as a reward for his hard work, Steve is allowed to take Emma and me out to dinner somewhere and KPMG pays for it. We always live it up and go somewhere really classy that we couldn't (or shouldn't) afford on our own. Last night was one of those dinners. I always feel like when we walk in, people are looking at us thinking, "You did not just bring a toddler into this place." Oh, yes, we did. (Last time we did this, we went to this cool restaurant that rotates up in the sky, and after we got there the hostess came and told our server that no one knew where the high chair was. THE high chair. Apparently, not too many babies dine at cool revolving restaurants.) Last night, Emma rotated between her high chair, my lap, Steve's lap, and her own big chair about 50 times, but I don't think she disturbed anyone. She loved the food, which was fabulous. And I'm fairly certain we were the only table there performing "The Itsy Bitsy Spider" and "Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes" during our meal.