D.C. Recap (Day III)

Recently got back from taking a few days off to hit Washington, D.C. This is the third in a short series of posts about how it went.

By our second full day in the city, Babe-O had pretty much mastered the whole routine. She would sleep in her stroller or on my shoulder when it was naptime or skip naptime and be no worse for the wear. Either way, we didn't really miss a beat as she modified her routine to accommodate sightseeing and other touristy activities. We did the normal stuff, Smithsonian museums and all that, and she was awesome all day long. But the best part of that day was dinner.

The four of us (Mom-O, Babe-O, MIL-O, me) went to the Old Ebbitt Grill, a niceish, semi-historical bar/restaurant near the White House. We were a little concerned with how Babe-O would do, way past her bedtime and after a long and active day, in a nice place with tablecloths and soft music and all that. Of course, by now you're probably picking up on the pattern and know that she did splendidly once again.

It did start off a little rough, however, when we came to the entrance, which was a revolving door, and only a revolving door. After several awkward attempts to get the stroller through the thing, a near-by shoeshine guy showed us which of the decorative doors we could use, which I popped open, just about knocking a big plant to the ground on the other side. The restaurant guy inside didn't seem super impressed at the time, but fixed the plant and got us a table pretty quickly. We got to our seat to find a high chair and a special place setting for Babe-O, featuring a single silver spoon on top of a cloth napkin. She immediately grabbed it and held it up to the light like Excalibur or something, and we unanimously dubbed her new accessory the Spoon of Justice. She held onto it for the rest of the meal.

They didn't exactly have a kid menu, so let her help herself to a cheese tray appetizer, which featured a bunch of weird, very flavorful fancy cheeses. She loves cheese, but usually doesn't get anything any more exotic than cheddar. But she ate this stuff like a sophisticated little lady and impressed the manager lady while she was at it. Manager Lady and the servers all seemed impressed by Babe-O, who sat in her spot at the end of the table, quietly babbled with us and ate things like blue cheese and seafood.

We got through dinner with no problem, but had a little bit of difficulty at the very end. After ordering desert (booze), I scooped Babe-O up for a diaper change. On my way back to the restrooms, Manager Lady spotted us and told me that they didn't have a restroom with a changing table. In an effort to keep up my public persona of superdad, I told her that was no sweat and headed back to the bar area to find the men's room.

There was no men's room. Just a single bathroom for everybody, about the size of an elevator. And for a really nice place, it was dirty. As I walked in, our server saw me and asked if I was going to change her in there. When I told him I was, he pointed out that he must need more practice because he'd never be able to change his kid in there. He also promised that my drink would be waiting for me when I got back to the table, apparently not thinking that I might like him to pour it directly down my throat on the spot.

So I walked into the bathroom. There was a sink and a toilet and that was it – nothing big enough to accommodate the changing pad, much less the baby. I knew that Babe-O wasn't going to like this, so I turned the sink on full blast to drone out any fussing (the bar was about two feet from the door and there were people eating right on the other side of the wall). I sat down on the toilet and spread the baby out in my lap. She started screaming and I just worked to get her taken care of as quickly as I could. By the time I had the new diaper on and started to get her little dress all straightened out again, she was really wailing and I was getting a little bit flustered. Just as I was looking for a place to throw the old diaper away, I glanced at the sink and noticed that my full blast faucet setting had not only sprayed water all over everything, but had also filled up the (apparently) slow-draining sink, which was now spilling all over the floor.

After shutting the water off and making an awkward attempt to clean up one-handed while holding the kid away from all the gross surfaces in that little room, we stepped out and were greeted by a bar full of folks who were probably wondering what all the screaming and swearing coming from the bathroom was all about. Fortunately, Babe-O settled down immediately and I didn't have to walk back to our table with her screaming and carrying on.

After that, it was back to the hotel to rest up for Sunday, when we would basically deathmarch ourselves to the remaining corners of the city.

More to come…