Day 2: Two Ducks & A Wedding

In a reply to my Day 1 description in this blog, my friend Maryanne Stahl, a teacher, novelist and passionate devotee of waterfowl, said that she was pleased that I finally posted something nice about ducks. Usually I reference ducks and geese only in the context of foie gras. Maryanne, with that in mind, you may want to avoid the bit of this update.

Our second day in England began with full English traditional breakfasts. If you’ve never indulged (and no one except very fat English people indulge in this very often), it consists of bacon, sausage, fried eggs, grilled tomatoes, and optional fried bread, beans, and/or black pudding. Black pudding is not to be confused with the common American Kraft chocolate pudding, but is basically blood and fat congealed into an attractive splat. I know, and it’s yummy. So there.

Mikey ate all of that, and then demanded some tea. Of course, he gets what he thinks he wants, which we decided was milk warmed with a few dribbles of tea.

After breakfast, we were told that the hotel resident tame duck, named by her owner Crispie, had arrived. Crispie was happy to meet Mikey, which she showed by nibbling on him, which most of us decided was more than fair for being poked in the eye "gently."

The wedding was at 2 o’clock, about an hour away in Lyndhurst, so at 1 o’clock, our niece Lauren tore through our hotel’s parking lot and we roared after her. Through tight forested roads we raced, by in large remembering what side of the road to be on, until we arrived at the city hall with a minute to spare. Once again, Mikey had fallen asleep before he had a chance to see any of the New Forest ponies he was desperate to see, and he stayed asleep all through the ceremony, where his Papa accompanied Aunt Helen down the aisle to give her to Simon Rhodes.

The reception was at a huge hotel another half an hour away, and by then Mikey was awake and ready to party. The back lawn was vast, and while Helen and Simon tried to get pictures taken, Mikey and Cousin Sapphire-Jade chased after each other. We were brought inside for dinner, and Mikey found his place in the receiving line, hiding behind the curtains to avoid the tickling clutches of Cousin Lauren.

“Stop it!” he would snarl from behind the curtains.

“Stahp it! Stahp it!” Lauren would tease in perfect imitation of his American accent, which he thought was hilarious. This interchange became the repeated game of the evening. Even days later, Mikey would ask to play “the game,” where I would be Cousin Lauren and say “Stahp it!” and he would call me “Crybaby!” and then eat me.

After dinner, the dance floor came out and Mikey and Cousin Sapphire-Jade danced for approximately four hours straight. Occasionally, they let others, like the bride and groom, out on the floor.

Finally, we dragged Mikey home, back to the hotel. Despite his obvious exhaustion, Mikey did not want to sleep. We felt like a snack too, so we went down to the bar and ordered the special, which was duck rolls.

Mikey took a bite and said, eyes widening, “This Crispie Duck who bite me?”

“I think it’s a different duck,” I assured him.

Mikey still had his revenge.

Mikey Meets Grandma and Grandpa

My cousin Sarah got married in Kenosha, Wisconsin last weekend, and Ian, Mikey, and I flew out from Los Angeles to be there. As you know from my previous blog entry , this is the second time Mikey’s been on a plane with us to go to a wedding, and we hoped his perfect behavior on the plane at and at the party wasn’t a fluke. I can’t say we’ll never have a bad flight with him, but now that we’ve been on 9 separate planes with him, it’s safe to say that the rule is that he flies very well. On the last flight today, one of the stewardesses came to us and asked if she could hold Mikey, and we said sure, provided he didn’t object (which of course he didn’t), and we talked about her own attempts to adopt while she rocked our son in her arms until he drifted off to sleep.

Just one of the moments of the last six days which will stick with us.

Mikey’s plane patience was tested at the start when we flew out at 6:30 pm from LAX, arriving at O’Hare just after midnight. By the time we met up with my parents, got our car (and then got another car with a bit more room for all our luggage), got lost in Chicago, and made it to the hotel in Kenosha, it was after 3 in the morning. He actually woke up the next morning, which meant he didn’t sleep his usual 11 hours, and that was the theme of the week: sleep deficiency. Even when we tried to put him down at some time approaching his normal nap time, he was too excited. This is a boy who knows how to have fun.

The wedding was very touching and my cousin looked beautiful. Mikey had already bonded with my parents by then, and fell asleep in his grandmother’s arms. When Ian and I whispered to her, “Do you mind holding him?” thinking his 30 lb. weight might be a bit much, she looked back at us and then smiled at him before whispering, “Your dads ask really dumb questions sometimes.”

He was awake, however, in time to break dance at the reception, after watching some of the older boys do it.

The next day, we flew with the parents to New Bern, North Carolina to stay with them for two days and introduce Mikey to his nonagenarian great grandparents who weren’t able to make it to the wedding. Perhaps not surprisingly, there’s no direct flight to New Bern, North Carolina from most locations, so we were supposed to change plans in Atlanta. Unfortunately, a massive storm hit the south-east, centered in Atlanta and the weather got so bad that the airport was shut down. Our modest layover became a desperate fight to get out of the water-logged city any way we could after our flight was cancelled. We were booked by the computer to fly out the next morning, but slightly more humane and human ticket agents got us in the long standby list for the last flight out that night. It began to look like only one or two of us was going to be able to get out, in the high drama as we entered our sixth hour in Concourse B.

Meanwhile, Mikey was having the best time, playing with other kids if they had strollers he could fasten up, high-fiving and fist-bumping whoever would return it, staring at people who were sleeping until they opened their eyes, and pointing out the “big trucks” and “planes” and “rain, rain, rain” outside the windows. He probably felt we left too soon when we all, to our relief, managed to get onto that last flight out.

The visit in New Bern continued the bonding between Mikey and his grandparents. He had his first ice cream with them, as well as his first seafood Newberg and broccoli soufflé. They put him up on their player grand piano so he could pound on the keys or watch them play themselves by magic. They hosted a party at their house on the Trent River, and thirty of their friends didn’t let explosive thunderstorms dissuade them from coming to meet Littlest Mikey.

And Mikey met his grandparents at their apartment at a retirement center. My grandfather is not doing well, but he is still quick-witted enough to tell me that he was rereading a book the other day and didn’t think much of the writing except for the introduction. The book he was modestly referring to was his own Stories For My Grandchildren , for which I wrote part of the introduction, and I promised him that I would be reading them to our son. An easy promise to keep.

As far as my grandmother, on meeting Mikey, she said, “We think he’s a gift from the Lord.” I can’t disagree.

My Trip To The Clouds & Sun Valley

Father’s Day weekend and the out of state wedding we attended were perfect, as of course was I (Littlest Mikey). We drove to Burbank Airport Friday morning, which is nice because it’s close and small, and only had a bit of grumpiness when they took my shoes off and took away my sippy cup at security for thirty seconds, because I look so shifty. We hung around the gate with our friend Stan, Chris, and Robert who were also going to the wedding, and I smiled at all the folk waiting for the plane who were doubtlessly thinking, “Oh, a baby on the plane. I do hope he sits near us!”



The first flight was about two hours from Burbank to Salt Lake City. I cried for a moment as we walked across the runway to the small plane and it roared in a scary way, but that didn’t last long. I am not used to being held on a lap for two hours, so I squirmed between the two laps I had available and ate and ate and ate, and sometimes I played with the food boxes, or the tray table, or the window shade (where I learned two new words “Up” and “Down”). Then we had a short layover in Salt Lake City and moved into a smaller propeller plane. I tried to stay awake for the hour flight to Sun Valley, but much to everyone’s disappointment, I fell asleep.

When I woke up, we were on the shuttle to our hotel, the Sun Valley Lodge. Our room wasn’t ready, so first we were put in a room which could only be reached up a long flight of stairs. When Papa Ian complained that such a room wouldn’t do for a baby in a stroller, they moved us to another room on the ground floor. This room had a lovely view of the lodge ice rink, but when Papa Ian called to ask what time the shows were and whether they were loud, we were moved again and upgraded to the best room in the hotel, the parlor suite with two balconies and a separate living room. Something about a squeaky wheel, which I very seldom am, myself.

That night we went to a pre-wedding dinner at a restaurant, where I had lamb for the first time. Many people said I was cute and well-behaved, so that must be true. We left just before dessert at 9:30, and I fell asleep in the crib the hotel provided without any protesting.

The next morning, we went off in search of a restaurant in the “village” of shops attached to the lodge, but ended up returning back to the hotel where I was a little grumpy and didn’t want to wear my bib and occasionally things were thrown to the floor. The ‘rents need to remember to feed me first, then go exploring, right? After that, I went back to normal angel mode as we found a playground on the property and did swings and slides for an hour or two. We went back to the room for my mid-day nap, but I was too excited about seeing more of the town to sleep, so after a while, they plopped me in my stroller and walked a mile down the road to Ketchum. We’ll have to send you some pics and videos of the walk, because it’s all that snowy mountain, big vista, big clouds, “God country” good stuff. Anyhow, I fall asleep in the stroller apparently, but two hours later, I wake up and they have visited Hemingway’s grave, run into some other wedding guests, and we’re out eating burgers and chowder.

Then we had to spit spot back to the hotel, and get dressed up for the wedding. My dads wore black tie and I wore the seersucker suit my grandma sent me, which was a mite too big when I tried it on a couple weeks ago, but fit as if tailored now. (I learned a new word at this moment, “Ready,” as in “Are we ready?” “Ready!”) The shuttle took us to Lindsley’s stepmother’s ranch. Huge place. The ceremony was in the barn, the reception was at the guest house, and the dinner was in a tent down the hill. Someday when I come back, I might get to see the house itself which apparently down on the river. I was a little shy and frowny around the crowd at first, but by the time dinner was served, I was running across the dance floor, from table to table to tell people “Hi” and be the official greeter. If the bride was miffed that I was getting more attention than she was, she didn’t show it. I hope my life continues to be like that tent, filled with people who love me. I learned the word “moon” after pointing to the night sky. I finally fell asleep in my stroller at about 11:30, just in time for the first shuttle back to the lodge, and a little past the time when I got to see Papa Ian do the Macarena.

I slept in late, but we still had to spit spot to get all packed up and Daddy Ted left his cell phone charger behind and Papa Ian left his Kindle charger behind (they discovered hours later back in El Lay when they unpacked). We took the shuttle to the brunch at a country club where there was a bagpiper who frightened me when he came in and when he left, since I was right near the door, and he sounded like a dozen cats going backwards through a vacuum cleaner. We went back to the lodge, and after another walk around in my stroller, I fell asleep until the shuttle came to take us to the airport.

The security folk in Sun Valley Airport take their jobs very seriously, and were very thorough in searching my diaper bags. They tested all my food to make sure my bananas and hot dogs weren’t bombs, patted Papa Ian down for looking shifty (which is how he looks when he’s annoyed), and then I got annoyed at my Osh-Kosh straps until we unsnapped one, Huckleberry Finn style and I was okay. I loved my window seat which had a view of the propeller, which looks a bit like my ceiling fan at home which makes me go, “Ooooh!” whenever it’s on.

In Salt Lake City again, I didn’t want to be in the stroller as we walked to our connecting flight, so I held Daddy Ted’s hand and ran so we wouldn’t miss it. Daddy Ted was impressed with my speed and it wasn’t until I suddenly began going slowly that he looked down and discovered that I had lowered my second Osh-Kosh strap and was going as fast as I could with my pants around my ankles. I don’t think Salt Lake City had seen the like before.

I didn’t sleep on the plane, but continued to eat and play and play peek-a-boo with fellow passengers, including some of the wedding guests. On the landing to Burbank, I pulled at my ears a bit and whimpered, but that’s the only time the pressure seemed to bother me. We drove back home, said hi to the cat (who I call “Dat”) and went to sleep after a bit of protest.

Today, back to some routine, playing in the park (when I wake up – it’s 8:30, and I’m still asleep), then social workers come at 3, swim class at 5:30.