Dinner Party

“I can’t talk now, I’m giving LLC dinner,” I told Chris when he called from the train on his way home yesterday. I clicked on speakerphone so he could say a quick hello to his little lady and then we parted company.

“Patience is a virtue,” I told LLC as she eyed me impatiently from her highchair while her food cooled down. “It’s almost ready. Okay. Mommy’s just going to taste it now. Almost ready. We don’t want it to be too hot, or it might burn your mouth and that would not feel nice!”

“Aaaaerrghh,” shouted LLC. “A bababa dadadada aaaarrggghhh.”

“Alrightly,” I chirped. “I think we’re ready now. Oh, you want the spoon? Sure, take the spoon. And flick your food. Look LLC, look. You want to get the food in your mouth. That’s right. You’re having something to eat. (Cue sign for “eat” from the sing and sign class we are taking.) Would you like some more?” (Cue sign for more)

LLC ate and played with her food a bit before deciding it was time to lose her bib. She tugs at it until she pops it off, not particularly hard to do as it’s only held on by Velcro. This is a recent habit that I’m desperately trying to break since her trusty plastic bib with front pocket collects many a culinary casualty.

“LLC, let’s have some more to eat! We don’t want to take off our bib or our clothes will get dirty. Look, mommy has some apple for you. Here, hold the apple! Uh-oh, stop. (Cue sign for stop). Stop. Let’s not take off the bib. Stop. (Again the sign for stop – LLC laughs in response). Stop, in the name of your bib! Before you get real messy.” (Sang to the tune of 'Stop in the Name of Love.')

Sadly I don’t have the voice of Diana Ross but LLC’s no critic, this proved a successful distraction and I had no other audience.

So I thought. When Chris got home he enjoyed telling me how, somehow, neither of us managed to properly disconnect our phones and the train carriage had been treated to LLC and my dinner-time discourse. It was only when he noticed fellow commuters giggling and giving him funny looks that he took off his i-pod and heard our voices coming out of his pocket. “Oh, that’s just my daughter having dinner,” he announced, noting that she seemed to have provided some entertainment.

Why do I feel like they were laughing at my expense?!