The end is near

We are approaching the end of our childless long weekend. Two days, one hour and fifty-two minutes ago, I dropped off our son at his Grammy's house, which, with the help of Toys R' Us, had been transformed into a toddler's dream worthy of the type of magic only Christmas morning can bring.

And slow, but sure, the novelty of our temporary freedom has worn itself just a little thin as we navigated our way through the streets of downtown Newburyport this morning, looking wistfully at other parents holding the tiny hands of their toddlers, guiding them over the dirty banks of snow. Yes, we are enjoying our time, but this morning, we spent nearly a half-hour in Eureka perusing the shelves of toddler puzzles and trains as if our son has been gone a month and it'll be another month before we can see him again.

However, the weekend has not been without it's pleasures. Among them:

1. Sleeping late, which for us means 8:30. And it's not even really sleeping, more like a forced laying in bed, periodically checking the alarm clock for a respectable time to rise.

2. Eating out, Out of the six childless meals we've had, only one has been at home.

3. Drinking, Self-explanatory. When you are expected to rise at the break of dawn to take care of a well-rested toddler, you just can't drink like you used to. We still can't drink like we used to, but in the absence of our son, at least we can pretend. And we did.

4. Enjoying a leisurely pot of expertly brewed tea at Licorice and Sloe, where we learned that drinking tea without accoutrements such as cream and sugar (preferred by experts) is called enjoying it "neat," and where the extremely polite teenage staffer informed us that they prefer you do not bus your own table, as this would cause "cross-contamination" at the tea counter, where drinks are brewed for customers. These guys are the real deal. We even witnessed Licorice and Sloe owner, Bil Siliker, quizzing his "Tea-Slingers" on random tea facts. Incidentally, the Nilgiris, or Blue Mountains, of Southern India is home to many tea farms.

5. Voguing. When DJ Rhythm Nights started spinning Madonna's Vogue at the Harborside Saturday night, you could see the people squirming in their seats. But the dance floor remained empty. Taking a chug of her Sam Adams, Sandi turns to me and says, "How much will you give me to get out there and vogue?" I tell her $20. She quickly lays her coat over a chair at the bar, slams down her beer and saunters to the dance floor. Then, much to Rich's chagrin, (you told her $20???!!!), Sandi vogues like the wind, to the backdrop of the NBA's Slam Dunk contest on the big screen.

Me and the husbands sipped our beers and cracked up on the sidelines. Funny thing is, no one else seemed to notice.