We believe in Valentine's Day.
Well, no, that's not quite right. We understand it is an exercise in consumerism and we are fully against those teddies holding fake roses in plastic cylinders. AGAINST THEM.
But we like each other and going out to dinner. We like aftershave and flowers. So we've embraced the excuse of Valentine's Day to spoil one another. I'm not sure why people are so against it. Christmas has been poisoned by the almighty dollar but even the biggest Val's Day objector still smashes an eggnog or two come December. What's the difference?
And now that we have three kids and never go anywhere or do anything, V Day is more important than ever. It's not so much a chance to spoil each other as it is to notice each other. To not have a conversation interrupted by the toileting needs of others.
So we went on a date. Just the two of us. While Granma and the kids ate pizza at home. Everyone wins.
We arrived at the restaurant at 6pm and were back home by 8pm. Because we party hardy.
Naturally, we talked about the children, increasingly more sentimentally as the Sav Blanc started flooding through our veins. Although that sounds like we were mainlining the wine. I promise we used our old-fashioned mouths and not hypodermics.
We discussed which of the kids was most likely a genius and who would play the guitar and how Harlow has to stay a baby forever.
The food was delicious, the wine even delicious-er and I knew it was time to stop drinking it when I began rummaging through the handbag of the woman at the next table. In my defense, it was Valentine's Day and really crowded in that restaurant.
"Sorry!" I said, "But actually, do you have any lip gloss in here?"
Oh, we all laughed!
But really, the sweet couple beside us were mere children and no doubt could not understand why I was poleaxed drunk by 7pm on a school night. But they'll find out. Eventually, it will be their turn.
It was a lovely evening, the romance not at all spoilt by my constant Facebook page updates.
On the car drive home, we turned the stereo to eleven and air drummed like maniacs which was irresponsible of Bren because he was driving.
We did not try the fingerroot. But there is always next time.