¡Viva La Diddle Poca!

Back in the fall we took NJ to a Mexican restaurant for lunch. Halfway through our meal her face turned a little red and she started crying, and things escalated to the point I had to get her out of there and rock her on the sidewalk in her car seat. Well, that was weird, we thought.

A couple of weeks after that, The Wife was cooking up some chicken verde enchiladas and NJ was next door to the kitchen in the dining room. Suddenly, she freaked out and started crying violently, and couldn't be placated for what seemed like hours. Hmmm, Mexican food again? I thought. She doesn't like it? This is not my child! ("Take a look at her -- of course she's yours," The Wife replied, rolling her eyes.)

So imagine my relief today when we went to lunch at an excellent Mexican place in Madison Park -- on NJ's 9-month birthday, no less -- and she was an utter delight. Smiling, waving and clapping, and generally charming the dickens out of the waitstaff, fellow patrons and anyone else who ventured within a ten-foot radius of her. She even downed a couple of spoonfuls of guacamole. I was so stunned I barely touched my chorizo chimichanga. (That's a lie. I inhaled it as if I hadn't eaten in weeks.)

¡Sí se puede!

Each of the three excellent Mexican places in town we know of are kid-friendly. (Trivia note: We ate at this one the night before NJ was born, and we're sure the spicy food helped convince the kid to make her debut.) So hopefully there will be plenty of tamales, enchiladas, Spanish rice, migas and Tums in our future.