Tonight, in an attempt to squeak in one bit of joy before the world grinds to a halt again, Jaclyn and I attended our first concert since the Before Times, finally seeing Alanis Morissette and Garbage after the show was postponed in June of 2020. Despite the looming danger of the Delta Variant, we were happy to get out and enjoy a show.
You know who DIDN’T enjoy the fact that we attended a concert? YOU GUESSED IT.
As we were leaving, Miles was still napping on the couch. Rather than wake him up and turn our departure into a crisis, we decided to sneak out and leave him with the babysitter. While we had told him about our plans for the evening earlier in the day and he knew to expect his babysitter, we still received a phone call just as we pulled in to the venue.
Miles had woken up. And he was furious.
As his babysitter put him on the phone, I said, “Hey buddy! Don’t worry, we’ll be back soon.”
Miles didn’t reply.
“You see,” I stammered, trying to appease the three-year-old, “we didn’t want to wake you up. You looked really comfortable.”
Silence for a moment, then a groggy, “Come home.”
We explained to him again that we’d be home later, that he was going to have fun with Ms. Sharon, and that we loved him very much. And I’m not sure whether he believed us or decided to write us off but he fell silent after that.
As uncomfortable as it is talking to a silently stewing Miles, I’ll take it over “banshee wail” Miles any day of the week.