mangia!

the table sunday night was set, with spaghetti and homemade meatballs and tyler-made garlic bread. there were 2 extra place settings on the table for friends who were over for dinner. "are you ready, because the food is ready," i warn tyler. "hold on, everyone has to be sitting down," he says standing from his staging area. everyone is seated except for alan who was outside retrieving something from the car and on his way back in. "come on ty, come out...the food will get cold." "NO, not yet. EVERYONE has to be seated," he insists. everyone is NOW seated (including 2 hungry babies). "you ready?" we call out. "ugh! i can't get this on! not yet...can somebody help me?" he calls out in frustration. finally, after some assistance from aaron, he comes out with a hand full of menus and a black "italian"-esque mustache taped zealously on his face. laughter ensues as tyler the italian waiter, trying with all his might to keep a straight face, hands out the menus. can you picture it? then all that was left of our sunday italian dinner were two pieces of bread and a fake mustache. no, we didn't eat the mustache.