Christening

A month ago John and I were even more wild and daring than usual. For the first time since Millie was born (which, if you're counting, is 13+ years ago), we spent a night together without any children.  Children on the outside, that is.  If the wombkin Millie counts as company, then we hadn't spent a night together without children since a month after our wedding 14 years ago.

Wild.

CRAZY!

John's high school buddy was getting married a few hours away from our Owen family, and since the reception was slated to last until eleven o'clock at night, John made the wild! crazy! decision to book a hotel room.  (Keep in mind that we haven't even spent a night in our own home without children in all these years, let alone in a hotel.)

The wedding ceremony took place in an old, stone chapel, and the reception was held in a genuine castle, with stone walls, nooks and crannies around every corner, and a library straight out a storybook, shelves from floor to high-vaulted ceiling.  To add to the ambiance, an older man even assured us that the place is haunted by more than one bonafide spook.  The food was excellent, and the hotel room we stayed in was the fanciest one in which I've ever set foot. Granted, I have limited experience, but, still-- FANCY.

I took no pictures, though, which would normally bar this from shotsnaps, except for this, the best part of the night.  The dance floor was thronged with people at close to eleven.  I sat at the table, quietly people-watching, when the throbbing dance beat that had filled the place for a couple of hours was suddenly replaced with a jolly polka.  Within seconds, I felt for the first time the little 14 and 1/2 week body within me kick up heels and dance until the polka ended.  For you Johnson children who know the significance of a good polka played loudly, it felt as if the baby was knowingly giving a grand salute to Dad.

So, this babe has been named the Polka Papoose, or Polka'poose, with a nod to the man who gave us polka and clapping on Sunday afternoons.