Planetary alignment

It seemed for a moment as if the visit to the taqueria was headed for disaster: packed with hipsters, not a table in sight, line out the door. Wriggly-as-heck, hungry babies flailing themselves away from our arms. The dark cloud of Temper Tantrum rumbling overhead.(Okay. That was just Nora. Truth be told, Owen was a perfectly contained little chunk of peachy love.)

But the heavens opened up and the angels sang. The line moved, a table cleared, two high chairs were available at the same time. Mama drank an entire margarita while seated. (What? What's that you say? Have I consumed a margarita while unseated? Are you seriously asking me that? Um - yeah! Toddler wrangling is not something done from a seated position, and margaritas are not optional in this life.)



Aren't they a stripey duo, nestled there among the bike racks?