Yesterday I walked into the bathroom to find The Boy standing in the sink, routing through the medicine cabinet.  He had Derek's electric razor on in his hand (which he had turned on) and was shaving his face.  With his other hand, he was applying roll-on deodorant to his lips. 

This amazed me because in all of his nearly 19 months of life, I don't believe he has ever seen his mother with lipstick on, yet alone watched her apply it.  For that matter, I'm fairly certain he hasn't learned that skill from his father either.  I'll have to ask.  When I relayed this to his father...

D:  Baby, I don't think that is a good thing for him to eat.
K:  OK, I'll take it off the menu for tonight.

What????  Like I had said, "Ethan, don't eat those eggs I made.  Here, have this deodorant instead."

Then we were at the baseball game last night where we met B and we were virtually surrounded by fans of "The Other/Less Cheerful Team."  Derek would say fans of "The Other/Less Obnoxious Team."  Whatever.  But what transpired next will boggle the mind.

We had ice cream and The Boy managed to eat half of mine and half of B's.  Which means he had his body weight in Edy's mint chocolate chip.  He also managed to have large smears of ice cream all over his face because his usage of the spoon was a little less than stellar.  Pretty soon it was all gone.  Or as Ethan would say, "Gall Gone."  In his frustration that we hadn't purchased the 10 gallon container of ice cream from the vendor, he began swinging his spoon around.  With one felled swoop, it went flying into the air and I think, maybe, just maybe, bounced of the back of "Mr. I'm in a Crappy Mood Because My Sorry Team is Losing and You Keep Yelling In My Ear Because Your Team is Winning."  It didn't leave an ice cream mark so I wasn't exactly sure what happened.   

D:  What did he drop?
K:  Nothing (giving him the high sign to just let it go).
D:  No really.  I heard him drop something.
K:  He really didn't drop anything (FRANTICALLY MAKING SLASHING MOTIONS ACROSS MY NECK).
D:  (routing around) He definitely dropped something.

B was now leaning around me and we were both making this motions for him to just shut the hell up.  Which he ignored.  He continued to act like maybe The Boy had lost a limb and it had fallen on the ground under the seats in front of us.

D:  Oh, he lost something.  We can't just leave it.  

Now I am hitting him and B is looking at him like maybe we should just commit him because he clearly does not have a brain in his head.  And THEN the man turned around. 

Man:  Did the baby lose something that he needs? 
D:  Yes.
K:  No, he's fine.  It was nothing.

The Man leans forward in his chair, turns around, and finds the nasty spoon under his ass.  In a place where it would have simply slid off the chair when he stood up and he never would have found it. 

D:  See.

Yes, I do see.  And now the Man sees that I KNEW that the boy sent the spoon flying in his direction.

D:  I told you he threw something.

Because what is important in this world is being correct.  Now I have to extricate myself from this situation because even at this late date, my husband cannot keep mouth shut.  The people behind us are trying desperately not to laugh hysterically.

K:  Sir, I heard him throw it but when I didn't see anything on you, I thought we had dodged the bullet.
Man:  It's OK.

But it wasn't OK.  And they say that you never know real embarrassment until you have kids?  Those people who say that aren't married.