So this episode started off as a bust.
Just kidding. I'm referring of course to Paul's broken nose, courtesy of my apparently fierce four-year-old, Collin. The story is that Paul was wrestling with the boys, and Collin's foot made unfortunate contact with Paul's, well, face. Paul, being a plastic surgeon, was able to call in a favor from his colleague to have his nose repaired right away. I promise you, I was really trying not to laugh. I get that a broken nose is a serious thing. But watching my grown husband try and rationalize to me that my preschool son had done this deliberately was too much.
Speaking of too much, I still laughed watching Paul dramatizing his breathing struggles. What in the world was he doing there? It seemed like he was in a Lamaze class or something. He won't admit it, but Paul really did try and milk it for all it was worth. What is it with grown men and pouting when they are sick or injured?
So onto The Dinner: Yes, I'm capitalizing it, because it seems to deserve it, right?
I think that Camille really did intend to host a dinner where some hatchets could be buried, so to speak. Unfortunately, it ended up that some of the women felt that those hatchets were buried in their backs. The evening started off nicely, and it was a really lovely setting. I have to say that as soon as I took a sip of one of those drinks, I did worry a little about where the night might go. Two sips in, and I knew I had to be careful with them. I’m not much of a drinker to begin with and those things were strong!