A Perfect Date

I took the smaller Hawklet on a mommy-son dinner date recently on a whim. One of us suddenly thought cheesecake needed to appear and jump into our bellies. I can't recall exactly which one of us had that hankering... hmm.

When we arrived at our booth, he insisted on sitting next to me on the same side. I nearly shed a tear at the gesture. He was the perfect date, excited about being there, about the menu choices, about being just the two of us, about the carb-loading he accomplished.

We held hands walking back to our car, loaded with take-home bags. I promised him we'd do it again.

What an easy promise to keep.

He could not be more excited to be on a date with Mommy. That, or, to choose his cheesecake flavor. Maybe both.