The Forgotten

I’m having dinner tonight.

Well, I have dinner most nights. This one is different because it involves a few things. Or, rather, it doesn’t …like my kids. They’re not invited. And they’re not coming, and I don’t care how many whingy questions they ask or sad faces they pull.

It will include my husband. This is rare. He often isn’t available to come out for dinner. If he’s present, it’s usually becausese we’ve “gone out” for dinner at his work and he comes out and says hello. This makes the kids feel all celebrity-ish because the head chef is coming and talking to them.

We’re also going out with some friends. Who also won’t be accompanied by their children.

I have forgotten how to behave in public. Or speak to people without random bursts of “I will be with you in a minute” and “stop farting on your brother’s head, now!” and “oh, for fuck’s sake, how did that/you get in/up there?” interspersed throughout the conversation.

I’m worried I’ll have those moments where you are having

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