Parents actually on a date, news at 10

By the time anyone reads this, my wife and I will have gone on a date.

A date.

There was a time when one of us could say something crazy like, “Let’s go out for dinner,” or “You know that movie you want to see? It’s playing at 7 p.m.” Then we would get into our car and drive to a restaurant or a movie theater. At some point we would engage in conversation that didn’t involve Pokémon and end the night without anyone crawling over us except each other.

It sounds like a lie, but it’s not. This was B.C., Before Children. It’s now A.D., After delivery, which is our own fault for crawling over each other.

Now my wife and I vote for presidents more often than we get to leave the house without asking anyone in the back seat if they need to go to the bathroom first.

To successfully make it alone to a place with grown-up food or grown-up entertainment requires more planning than a NASA mission to the planet with the talking apes – and that involves time travel because, you know, the Statue of Liberty and stuff.

Jason’s note: Grown-up food comes on a plate, usually requires a fork instead of a bun, ketchup is not an option and in place of a toy it comes with a sprig of parsley. Grown-up entertainment is anything that doesn’t involve water guns.

Oh, man. A date.

In order for us to go somewhere without our three expensive small people, we have to agree on an event so big we’re willing to dig up someone to babysit. It’s not that easy. Everyone who knows us requires a security deposit and that guy who keeps driving by our house in the van looks kinda shady.

Me: So, what are we doing? Is Led Zeppelin in town?

Wife (trying to ignore me): The drummer died in 1980. The band hasn’t existed for almost 40 years.

Me: So Led Zeppelin isn’t in town?

Wife (looking online): There’s something of biblical proportions coming up on Saturday. That looks promising.

Me: Oh, wow. The Second Coming? Yeah, we gotta go. That’s a once-in-a-lifetime deal. Dead rising from the grave, and all. You know, that also puts going to see Zeppelin back on the table.

Once we successfully make it out of the house, things can go one of two ways: glorious (“Dinner was great, honey, and the kids didn’t tie up the sitter and set the house on fire. I think we’d have heard”) or something a bit closer to reality.

Once at the restaurant and faced with the prospect of sharing an adult conversation, we realize we can no longer communicate without grounding someone.

If we actually avoid talking about the children and attempt to share an intimate moment, we find it’s difficult to look longingly into each other’s eyes because we left our glasses in the car and everything’s blurry.

Then there’s–

“Is that your phone?” my wife asked.

I nod as I answer. “It’s the kids. They want to know how old they have to be to be tried as adults.”

Maybe next time we should stay home.

Find out about everything Jason at

You must be logged in to post a comment Login