My Social Life

We have a weekly soiree at our house simply called Thursday Night where a group of friends eat, drink, laugh and regress into life circa mid-freshman year at college. My awesome friend Anthony the blogless wonder so I have no link to send you to was gracious and hosted it at his fabulous loft in the pearl to give The Davey and I a little break. Food was great, drink was better, conversation lively. That was when my adorable ten lb. time bomb went off. Poor kid screaming her way over a room full of adults enjoying a candelit dinner. Goldie was hungry, it was past her bedtime. Think fuel to fire. I tried to feed her. She tried screaming some more. She won. I shoved a Mighty Boob in her wailing mouth. I should note that while she did not feed, she did make an incredibly interesting noise that sounded like a big mound of flesh flapping against a toothless screaming mouth. I started wondering what my social life is going to be like when she can walk and talk and doesn't just lie quietly in the corner sucking her binky. Also I thought about the real implications of how bad a things must be when your boob makes someone cry.