• Who: RYLIE, Dusty, Liz, Becca, Gina (and David at the end)
• Where: Clarendon
• What: Garden Veggie omelet (fries instead of potatoes), the rest of Liz’s salad, bloody

So you know when I said I’d never go to the burbs again? Well it looks like I may have spoken too soon because somehow, only a week after my harrowing experience in Northern Virginia, I found myself back in Clarendon again. This time, though, it was a different type of Asian sensation that brought me—the opportunity to see Baby Rylie and Mama Dusty before they move off to their new home in Japan (which is ironic, because Northern Virginia might a well be Japan).

For four women who are happily childless, spending time with a newborn is a great opportunity to learn about your own visceral reaction to children. You can really tell a lot about a person by the way they hold a baby—and it’s very revealing to observe how the four of us took on Rylie as she was passed into our arms. Just look and you can see the wheels turning in all our heads…

There are those of us who see Rylie as a great accessory, like a hot beaded clutch.

And there are those who want to connect at a deeper level with the infant, skipping the baby stuff and hoping to just have a conversation about the weather or the bitchy clerk at Lululemon.

For others, there is a mixture of amazement/shock/horror. How did a baby get here? Am I really supposed to be holding it??

And finally, there are some of us who are already ready to roll—baby on the hip and nestled into the boob let’s get this show on the road I won’t take no for an answer we’re not messing around here!

Hmmmmm…so between the four of us, what kind of heir would we produce? A irresponsibly intellectual fashionista with extreme early-onset maternal instinct? Would our collective offspring be doomed? Or prepared to face any challenge? I guess if you knew Dusty and David pre-Rylie, you wouldn’t necessarily assume that a loud-mouth trainer/PE teacher and a hunky US military officer would make that little meatball of a baby. But when we saw David pick up Rylie, a ray of light shined through the upstairs of Harry’s Tap Room. It was a little bit like when you see a dog who looks like their owner (all jokes aside, Rylie does look a hell of a lot like David, even at 6 weeks old), frolicking without a care in the world at the dog park. Don’t worry, Dusty—if there’s ever any question, David is definitely the Daddy :)

AND… maybe we also know that from listening to Dusty’s graphic horror story of her 80+ hour childbirth, involving implements, techniques and phrases we’d never even heard of before, let alone considered using ourselves. If he’s still there after that, no question at all! Congrats to Dusty, David and fat baby Rylie!