As I began to write my post, John said, "before you do that, let's put on some music while you are blogging." So I'm like sure whatever -- for sometimes you go along to get along. Little did I know he was going to put on Lou Monte's "Pepino" and other music so disturbing that my blogging thoughts are fleeing. John's comment that this was what he listened to as a child gave me a great insight into his disturbed psyche.

I have not had anything near as interesting as Steve's cast party happen to me. I must say I am glad.

Today was my first foray into the phenomenon known as the playdate. Up until this point I had not attempted this social construct because well, I was chicken. Playdate's are the currency of the preschool set and lets say I'm less than affluent. However, Cookie had begged me at length to have his friend over. I finally gathered up my courage -- for imagine how you would feel should you be turned down for a playdate -- and asked Cookie's friend's mom if his friend would be available. Lucky for me, his friend's social calendar was not full and the date was on.

Cookie advised me that his friend liked white milk and to have some on hand should it be requested. I complied with this reasonable request. It should be mentioned that I had advised Mrs. Petronio that the noise volume might increase to rock concert like decibels, just so she wouldn't become frightened.

The most amazing thing happened. Cookie's friend arrived, and peace reigned supreme. It was quieter than when it's just Cookie and Mojo. No fighting, no arguing... quiet. And the most delightful part, I was not needed for entertainment. They amused themselves. I wanted to rent this kid from his mom. It's an added bonus that this kid is probably one of the most polite kids ever and an excellent influence on my guys. So, I will most definitely be doing this again.

Since I was already having Cookie's friend over and I was a little worried about the play dynamics of three, (As in someone always is odd man out) I also invite one of Mojo's friends over. Mojo's friend shows up, and Mojo is like, it's my friend from my class. He could not tell you his friend's name if his life depended on it. Indeed, throughout the time the kid was here, never once did Mojo utter his name.

Anyway, this is the kind of excitement you can expect when you reach a certain age, no crying over Johnny Cash, no cast parties, and no drunks molesting you. I would like to thank Steve for the disturbing thought of midget twins on segways. There was actually some rich guy in Bronxville that rode around on a regular sized one and I thought that was odd. The only other one I've ever seen was Gob's on Arrested Development.