It turns out that if you are spending a holiday weekend alone (i.e., without children), you will be inundated with invitations from friends who are sure that you may well shrivel up and die from a little peace and quiet. This rates very highly in the warm-n-fuzzy department.

I have just returned from dinner with friends. The only caveat on my joining them for the evening was that I please not cough in the salad. (I didn’t.) I wasn’t sure I felt up to socializing tonight but I’m very glad I went. The food was great, the company even better, and had I stayed home, I would’ve missed this little proclamation:

“Daddy’s got peanut butter in his nuts!!”

Cue abrupt halt to all conversation. Thank you, friends’ five-year-old son. Everyone else (4 adults and a 10-year-old, in all) was trying not to laugh but I couldn’t keep my mouth shut (shocking, I know). “That’s… really more information than I needed.” I guess any semblance of decorum was a lost cause after that. (Although I don’t think his mother had to kick me quite so hard as she did, under the table.) He laughed right along with us, not knowing why, which made it even funnier.

Turns out he was trying to tell us that his Daddy is the only one in the house who likes crunchy peanut butter (nuts in his peanut butter). It just didn’t come out quite right. And now I can never look his father in the eye again.