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*Note: adapted from my regular blog, at http://www.plasticsnappythings.blogspot.com/ 

Tonight we went to Five Spice in downtown Lake Oswego for dinner, and I remembered how fundamentally different it is to be a person with a permanent plus-one.

I guess technically, I have a plus-one-and-a-half. 

I'm too literal.

Anyway.

Five Spice is what my father considers to be the best restaurant in town, and I'd have to say I agree, based on my admittedly limited perusal of Lake Oswego's culinary offerings.

I ate scallops with quinoa -- they were amazing. Freckles had free-range organic chicken. My brother had sturgeon. We had a disagreement over whether the restaurant was Asian-fusion or seafood and the waitress diplomatically answered in a way that made everyone feel equally vindicated.

It was great.

But fine dining with Baby J is always an adventure.

Usually when Freckles and Baby J and I go out, we go to nice places that aren't really very fancy. It's even better if we have the option of lingering over our meal if we feel like it, or of leaving quickly should that strike our (really Baby J's) fancy. (One particularly memorable occasion featured a half-and-half tossed onto the floor, where the waitress immediately and inadvertently stepped on it. While we apologized, Baby J jettisoned menus from the table and screamed happily.) When we're home, we like Mariana's in Merced, and Paul's Place, and we also frequent Starbucks probably more than is healthy.

Five Spice pretty much met and exceeded our requirements.

It's very tranquil, with dim lighting and interesting lamp covers. The menu is upscale and the wine list is extensive.

So, of course, the second we got there, Baby J went manic. He did his Baby-Who-Does-Not-Bend routine, refusing to sit down, and jumping vigorously on my lap while shrieking in delight. Then he tried to pull everything off the table and throw it on the floor. Freckles gave him the cork from the wine, which appeased him for a while until he lost it somewhere under Freckles's chair. 

Freckles used my digital camera to illuminate the darkness and find it. I accused him of acting like he was searching for a sunken ship and declared the cork lost at sea.

Then Baby J suddenly tired of his games, bit me in the shoulder, and ate for a while before dozing off in my arms.

Lest ye think he was simply adorable and leave it at that, he soon awoke and started all over again. My mother walked him around trying to calm him. While he was momentarily distracted by the sight of his reflection in a mirror, the enchantment couldn't last.

Thankfully, he's really pretty, which means instead of hating us and leaving it at that, lots of times people just shake their heads, like they're thinking, "babies will be babies." Baby J should thank his lucky stars he isn't ugly.

The evening ended with me balancing Baby J on one hip swiveling him around, thus allowing him to smack Freckles in the face repeatedly. This was evidently hilarious, and he laughed uproariously, which was, of course, infectious.

While periodic visions of my old life flashed through my mind (in that life we would have eaten sedately, told stories, and no one would have banged a fork on the table -- probably) I realized that, in this life, we're loud, we're noisy, and we're here to stay.

Baby J dozed off as we drove along the rain-drenched streets, and when we got back to my parents' house, he allowed me to feed him a good portion of sweet potato.

I'm calling it a success and going to sleep.