Firsts.

Number One took her first couple of bottles of pumped b-milk yesterday. No fuss, no problem. A relief for all involved - especially Mom.

Omi and Rick were in town this weekend to visit Number One, and I needed a hair cut, so the collective decision was made to make a family outing of it.

It was a day of firsts for Number One. She got to wear pants. Go somewhere that wasn't the grocery store (the first trip to the market was on Wednesday). And go to a restaurant.

The restaurant - a half-way upscale sushi spot - was the trickiest part, obviously. Would she cry? How would the waitstaff react? What would we do if she went full-on apoplectic? Would we be "those parents" who dared have a screaming baby in a grown-up eating establishment?

Aside from some initial awkwardness with the 17-year-old hostess ("Does your party of four include the baby?" "Um, no. There are clearly four adults here, and the baby will not need her own chair...") everything went perfectly. Number One slept the whole time, we had a nice lunch, and instead of being "those parents" we were the parents with Such a Good Baby.

Victories!