He Gets it From His Momma

Saturday we attended graveside service of a family friend. The boys were in tow, of course, and were very well-behaved. Look, I'm as (pleasantly) surprised as some of you and am relieved to be past that 20 minutes.

Anyway, the 21 gun salute was the highlight for them so after that was over and as the American flag was being folded in preparation for its presentation to the family, L and J quietly played in the dirt at our feet.

I relaxed for the first time since we'd arrived and thought to myself, 'I'm sure glad we opted to attend the graveside service rather then the indoor memorial service (that was scheduled for a little later in the day).'

Just then L stood up, tripped over one of the sticks he'd been playing with, fell forward, and grabbed onto the lady in front of us with both hands...one on each cheek. She turned around, like anyone whose rear end has just been double-fisted, and assured L (who was about to burst into tears at this point) that it was okay.

Sweet lady and by some stroke of luck there wasn't a spot of dirt on her white pants.

Rewind to January of 2007 when B and I were visiting his parents in D.C. We hopped on an escalator after exiting the train.

I left 2 steps between me and the person in front of me, which actually happened to be a a very nice looking couple in their early 30s. (I would've left 4 or more steps between us, but there were so many people that I had to compromise my usually strict escalator routine.) I did not, however, compromise on touching the railing. I N E V E R touch the handrail on an escalator. Or stairs. Or the airport tram.

Anyway, as we headed up from the metro, the escalator suddenly stopped, causing me to lurch forward, where I grabbed onto the young man's rear end with both hands; one on each cheek.

I, of course, was mortified, but what a gentleman. He graciously ignored the whole incident.

Yes, I still practice my no-touching-handrails-in-public routine. Rear ends beware!