Day 18 was a date nigt.

This does not happen super often. We have an awesome community of people who love us and are willing to help with babysitting, but the reality is that we need to save our willing friends and family for things like parent-teacher conferences, or mandatory meetings that we both have to attend, or  emotional problems emergencies that aren't my fault. The other reality is that we have chosen to just blow right past the average/reasonable family size and make it impossible to do things like "swap kids with friends so we can take turns going on dates."  

A) Nobody wants to swap their two kids for our five. 

or

B) The people who wouldn't feel like they are getting the raw end of the deal, are people who think being a family of seven is normal, and I don't trust those crazies.

So, a date night is kind of a big deal.  We decided to incorporate our #AdamsActs into our date.  A couple next to us overheard us order a really good dessert, and the guy joked that we would have to let them know how it was. Well, sir, it was very good.  Like, so good, that one might get excited and hit said guy in the arm to tell him how good it was. How embarrassing for one, should one love dessert enough to forget about appropriate social boundaries, like not hitting, or, like not touching strangers during their date, or, like not touching strangers ever.  Once  my  Tom's dessert haze lifted, we decided that we should order that same dessert and have it sent to that couple's table. In part to be kind, and in part to make him forget  that  I struck him  about the stresses of everyday life.

So, we had dessert ordered and paid for and we left a note for them to enjoy the dessert and to follow along for the month if they'd like. I also wanted to leave a "Sensational Mustache Message" for our waiter, who had clearly taken the sweet, sweet time necessary to have waxed his mustache tips, and put them in curlers before his shift. Tom felt that doling out mustache awards would not be deemed an acceptable act of kindness, but this comes from that guy down there, who sat down to dinner with a bald face and grew that amount of facial hair before our drinks had even arrived.  He grows a full - lumberjack edition - beard overnight... so he can't really appreciate how hard it is for some  less Italian  men to grow such a fine, curly moustachio.