Let’s not even start with the shenanigans I tried to pull before attending a baby shower for M & C this past Sunday. I thought I’d be slick and surprise them after saying I wouldn’t be able to come. But it’s pretty dickish to mess with the emotions of a pregnant lady, especially one who has had my back for nearly twenty years and is seriously tied with JB and N for the very best person that I know.
And I’ve been pretty “Brooklyn sucks gentrification blah blah blah white people ruin everything” for the last few years but it took no more than a few hours of seeing people on the subway looking all happy with their babies and their produce and their interesting shoes to convince me that if this is where little baby Huck (M & C have been calling him “Figaro” but I KNOW BEST) is going to be born and raised, I’d better get on board the B (for Brooklyn! for baby!) train before I get left behind.
So this is the story of how I spent a little over 12 hours in New York City on Sunday. Continue reading