Just Heather

The New York Times says “firstborns are smarter” in a new scientific study on the relationship between birth order and I.Q. This is good news for me, as the oldest child of four. I’m just not really convinced. I have 3 girls, and while they’re all smart as a whip, I don’t know that I’d say one is smarter than the other. (Not that I’ve ever had their I.Q. tested.)

I think Stacia was our earliest (and best) talker, but I always chalked that up to spending 5 years of her life almost exclusively around grownups. Of course, maybe that’s the crux of it all—children who hear only adults speaking, who are talked to frequently and who get more attention may grow up with an advantage.

I don’t know, but it probably won’t stop me from letting my siblings know that I’m the smartest. It was in the New York Times! Check out the article through Juicebox widget on my sidebar, and let me know what you think!

When we embarked on our first alphabet journey, we selected the Melting Pot as F is for fondue. I chose it specifically because I had put a romantic dinner at the melting pot on my 40×40 list. However, by the time we got to F, romance was nonexistent. It was just not going to be what I wanted it to be, and I tried to convince him to go somewhere else. I believe I suggested Red Robin (F is for French Fries?), but we had a plan and—by, golly—we were sticking to it.

Whether it was self-fulfilling prophecy or I was just right all along will remain a mystery, but our $100 dinner at The Melting Pot was not what I had envisioned when I added it to my list. We were tense, quiet and I was irritated at spending so much money on just another dinner. The setting was nice—they had given us one of the private booths—and the food was good, but the experience only hammered home the fact that we were not a couple. It would be the last of our alphabet dates, and the beginning of the end.

When we started over (both literally and figuratively), the Melting Pot found itself once again listed at letter F. This time, I decided, we were going all out! I wore my little black dress. He wore his pinstripe suit and the fedora! He looked completely delicious and I couldn’t wait to have him to myself over a fondue pot of more delicious. MFJ graciously agreed to spend a quiet evening at home (ours, not hers) supervising a slumber party. The girls were excited, I was thrilled she could do my hair (and loan me the right earrings), then we were off to a late dinner at the Melting Pot.

This time, it was everything I had hoped it would be. The only drawback was we didn’t get a private booth, even though we had actually requested it this time. We were, instead, seated in Lovers’ Lane. It was set off a ways from the open seating area, with high back booths to provide a more secluded dining experience. Regardless, the food was fantastic (especially the Yin Yang Martini), he told me I was beautiful and, most importantly, the love songs in the background meant something.

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Last weekend, MFJ and I had the opportunity to attend the Pacers home opener. I’m a Pacers fan from way back and try to hit at least once game each season. (Yes, even without Reggie Miller.) This, however, was the first time I’d ever gone for a Girls Night. We had so much fun—I don’t know why we’ve never done it before!

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You can read a full review of our experience at Eventchaser—with even more pictures, including a dog, a ghost buster, a pig and a penguin. Huge thanks to RazorGator for providing the tickets (front row, balcony level, yo!).

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How did that happen?