This past weekend Spiros and I went to dinner at the home of one of his colleagues, a guy he'd worked with way back at his first job in London. It was nice meeting him and his wife, and it was also nice meeting his children.
A nice reminder we are nowhere near ready to have kids.
Within 10 seconds of walking in the door, the six year old daughter had latched herself to Spiros' leg. Within 20 seconds she was crawling INSIDE of my wrap sweater trying to figure out what in the world J.Crew had done to create such a confusing top. (In her defense, it is a weird sweater.)
And, within 30 seconds, she proceeded to rapid-fire interrogate us with questions that most strangers only WISH they had the balls to ask:
"Do you have any kids?"
"Are you pregnant now?"
"Why aren't you married?"
"When are you going to get married?"
"What are you doing? You're just dating?"
She's at that precious age where she's smart enough to form these questions in her head yet not quite with it enough to grasp their utter inappropriateness. A special time in a child's life. Obviously her parents were thrilled.
Almost more so than the time in Berlin when Spiros and I went to dinner with another colleague's family, and the four year old daughter told me that my steak tartare looked like something "you'd find in the toilet." (In her defense, that's a legit description.)
Ohhhh children. Such insightful little creatures.
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