Today we went to the bank to see about refinancing our home loan for a much lower interest rate. Our personal banker, Michael, was excellent to work with. He explained everything thoroughly, went over our options, and was more than accommodating of the fact that Ethan was there with us. In fact, he even brought Ethan a small box of crayons and a little coloring book to play with on the floor as we worked.
As we stood up to leave, I glanced at the floor to make sure we'd picked up all the crayons and cookie crumbs from the floor (Joanie, one of the tellers, brings baked goods in regularly—we have the best bank ever, for real). And that's when I saw it.
Ethan had drawn all. over. the front flap Michael's expensive leather messenger bag. You guys, the window blinds rattled with the intake-force of my gasp. While Noah apologized profusely and I lamely offered a baby wipe (you have no idea the range of trouble a good baby wipe can clean up), I took Ethan by the arm and told him to apologize.
Silence. Awkward, gaping, soul-sucking SILENCE.
Only Noah's successful drive to the bank and the fantastic new interest rate we'd just locked in (4.25%) kept me from collapsing Ethan-style of utter and complete mortification.
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Next we went to the barber, where Ethan got his hair cut like a little man. This is a true barber shop, where they clean up dude's hairy necks with warm shaving cream and a straight razor. Ethan's performance there was admirable.
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This evening as I sat on our deck stairs watching Ethan work with his Daddy in the yard, he brought to me a tupperware bowl full of dirt. He had "cooked" me "dinner." I gave him a kiss.
"I love you, Ethan."
"Mommy, I'm so proud fuh you," he replied affectionately.