Date Night (a.k.a. Reasons I Love Bear)

On Sunday night, the girls spent the night at Grandma and Pap-Pap's house, and Bear and I got to have some rare, uninterrupted conversation over margaritas at Chili's. I don't know what most couples talk about when they're on a kid-free date, but our attempts to avoid mentioning the girls usually don't last too long...and hey, what of it? They're cute. We love them. They say and do highly entertaining things. (Keira, of the underwear-only sleep attire and general tendency toward nudism, suggested this week that we buy a pole for our house...allegedly because she "might want to be a fireman" when she grows up and is worried she won't know how to slide down the pole. Um, no. All the no in the world.)

It was during this conversation that I used what is probably the most ridiculous, shameful metaphor in the history of time to describe my position on ever having a Cubby Three. Because I also think it's highly appropriate, I will further shame myself by sharing it here:

The irrational part of me would love to have another baby, but logically, I know we should stop at two. It's like...objectively, Joe McIntyre is the best New Kid. He's probably the most talented (ahh, the coveted Most Talented Member of a Boy Band distinction!), he's funny, he's a family man, he's adorable and in great shape...


...and yet, I'm irrationally obsessed with Jordan.

On paper, it doesn't make any sense--he's not my type, isn't exactly intellectual, is possibly a jerk, and dances like Chandler Bing and Michael Jackson's love child--but that's just the way it is. It's beyond my control. So, the logical, Joe part of me knows we're getting to this really nice phase, where the girls are old enough to go more places and try big-kid stuff and they're easier to take care of...but a third baby is like Jordan. I know it wouldn't necessarily be the best choice, but sometimes I want it anyway. Luckily, because I make choices based on logic (and because Bear is decidedly happy with two cubs), the chances of us ever having a Cubby Three are about as likely as the chances of me ever bumping into Jordan on the street...and that's probably a good thing, in both cases!

So Bear listens to me say these PREPOSTEROUS words. And he doesn't file for divorce, or run screaming from the table, or laugh hysterically at the utter ridiculousness of comparing a serious life decision and the creation of more humans to members of a has-been boy band. What he does...is say this:

"Well, another baby would be a lot like Jordan. They'd both be really hard to take out in public. And they both wear really small clothes."

(I once asked Bear what he thought of Jordan, after I had watched a live performance on TV while he worked on his laptop next to me. He glanced up briefly, then went back to his computer and said, totally deadpan, "He wears very tight pants.")

For the record, we Bears are totally NOT in the market for another cub, and probably never will be, but my newborn niece Cassidy still makes me yearn a little:


I mean, how could she not?? That's concentrated, two-day-old baby smell beaming right for my ovaries, people!!

Anyway, after making me cackle hysterically by not only humoring, but participating in my New Kids/More Kids metaphor, Bear also offered this gem when we discussed the fact that Keira now wants to be an Angry Bird for Halloween:

"Well, it would be kinda cool if we could rig up a big slingshot, so we could just pull the wagon up in front of each house and then BAM! shoot her right at the front door."

More cackling.

It may not have been a glamorous date night--we finished out the night by going home to feed our newfound addiction to "Supernatural" (we're on Season 3)--but an evening alone with my adorable, hilarious Bear is always perfect, as far as I'm concerned!