Moonie and I grabbed a drink with my mom last night before heading to an art reception where I had some pieces hanging in a local building. In the spirit of celebration, I agreed to order a cosmopolitan, which Moonie wanted to admire for its pinkness. It turned out, though, he just wanted to admire his own reflection in the glass stem.


He asked if he could come take a closer look at the pink, then scrambled up to the rim before I could answer.


Before I knew it, the cosmo was gone, and Moonie was hiccuping.


The server gave us a stern look, but Moonie showed her his bum. Not to be forward, but because his year of birth – 1985 – is stamped on it, so despite his teeny size and his little-boy fart jokes, he is of age. Then he hiccuped some more.

He’s cute when he has the hiccups.

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