We celebrated Valentines day on the 13th, because I had to teach on the actual holiday (nothing says romance like 20+ refugees/immigrants getting utterly confused by another weird American holiday. I tried to make the best of it by bringing cookies and chocolate, and in the end a good time was had by all. Even though they still don’t understand it).
My awesome sister (who is famous now, btw–check out her kitchen on the kitchn!) offered to baby-sit. We jumped at the chance because the grandparents are going to India for a month and it looks like no date nights for awhile.
We splurged and went out to Thai food, and we didn’t even have a groupon. I know!
It was delicious, we were having fun and smart conversations, and then I got a call from the sister:
the baby fell in the tub and cut her chin and there is a lot of blood and I think you should come back.
Date night over!
We went back home and the baby seemed fine. It was my poor sister who was more traumatized–her sweatshirt was covered in blood–but the baby got a little tylenol and got a ton of books read to her, so she was happy. It turns out that cuts on your face bleed a lot. Who knew?
We ended the night by watching the season final of Downton Abbey 2. Epic.
I am starting to think we have a curse . . . every time we try and have a proper date or go away for a night one of us either gets the flu or busts their head open. Fun times.
Good thing we just live like it’s Valentines Day every day around here.