Last year, when our little crew of Mothers Group First-Borns turned 10, Astrid, Jenny and I decided to mark the occasion and their fledgling grown-up-ness by taking them out with us for a special dinner. Then, as the months slid past us, we realised that such things really couldn't be organised in a hurry, and that we'd likely need at least a year to find a suitable night and make a booking at a restaurant ... Anyway, last night, we finally marked their 10th -and 11th!- birthdays and took them out, just the 6 of us, no dads, no siblings.
Eleven is a lovely age, and our trio of 11-year-olds were delightful company. They were pleased and excited to be going out with each other and their mums, they were mature about trying new foods (we went to a Jimmy's Greek Tavern, and they ate calamari and saganaki and octopus and gyros lamb - there's no way I could have fed that sort of dangerous food to Cherub, he is on to me and never lets me poison him), their table manners were good, their conversation was fun and funny, and because they are so very mature now, there was no whingeing, bickering, fighting or toy-stealing. Jen, Astrid and I were very well-behaved too. We always enjoy each others' company.
We went out on Day 3 of the heatwave, not realising that the restaurant had no air-conditioning, (it actually wasn't too bad except for sweaty knees) so it was decided that although we'd polished off the mixed dessert plate (mmm, baklava!) we still needed a little more, and drove over to Gelobar for some massive icecreams that we ate as the storm rolled in. Actually, all three of them were defeated by their towering 3-flavour gelati and some Brunswick possums may have been left a little birthday treat. It was a very nice night indeed.
But just to prove they're only halfway to being all growed up yet, here is the funny-face photo they insisted needed to be taken.
You've come a long way, babies ... or have you?
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