sursly

So Father’s Day was Nice. It is still weird to think that I’m celebrating it as a dad for the third time (yes, we acknowledged it when we were preggers). And at 25, no less. Who saw that coming? No one. Nope.

This morning we thought brunch would be a nice idea. We booked reservations for our second attempt (we never made it out the door on the previous attempt) at a pretty nice place up at Cornell. By “pretty nice” I mean swanky, and by swanky I mean a potential baby meltdown situation. We knew we were in over our heads when we were forced to use the valet parking.

This is one of the many many reasons (among the 82 different kinds of assholes and incredibly promising career paths) that I refuse to return to LA. Unless you’re buying the plane ticket. And renting me a helicopter.

But breakfast was good. Jonah didn’t make a scene, and neither did I, so everybody wins. Megan did notice that we were strategically seated in a corner. Away from people, and the food. Smart.

And thinking back on it, the valet experience wasn’t terrible. We gave some dude our ticket when we left, and went outside and watched him back the car up 30 feet from where it had been parked. And this was a good thing, because I didn’t feel bad giving him a “thanks” and half-assed smile instead of a fiver. As in five dollars. American.

Jonah, on the other hand, looks grumpier than he lets on.

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