Yes, my son Samuel is a flying trapeze artist. Yesterday morning, my husband reported finding him on the floor closer to the dresser than he was to the crib. This means that not only did he fall to the floor, but he actually took a flying leap of faith, trusting he would somehow be ok when he got to the bottom. I thinks he's made of steel sometimes.

Despite this thought of his make-up I was immediately convinced that he should move into a bed. I could not fathom giving him another chance to perform death-defying leaps. My husband and his mother (and probably most other people would agree with them) both said that we should try him in the crib again before the bed trials began. I held fast and we went to get the bed anyway.

After an exhausting afternoon of Samuel wanting nothing to do with his beautiful new bed and a nap on the couch, we gave the bed another try. To no avail. So, put him in the crib then! He'll get used to the bed eventually right? Nope. After hearing the dull thud of my baby hitting the ground again, I resolutely promised myself to never put him in there again.

It was either my soothing story-reading voice, the jolt to his noggin, or his complete exhaustion that let him have the decency to fall asleep on his little bed around 9:00. Then wake up at 4:30. But that's another story.

1. He will never, ever come back to Thunder Bay now. Unless he's 80 and can't even do commercials anymore. Paul Schaffer doesn't even come back anymore (well, thank god for that really).
2. His ticket price will be astronomical which means I will never convince anyone to go to a concert with me. I will be all by myself bouncing in my seat and singing along. Everyone will pity me at first, but will quickly think I'm crazy. Especially if I have to go to Winnipeg. I view them all suspiciously.

But all this ok. I can hold the memory of the concert I did see in my mind's eye forever. He did promise he would come back here, but there's no way for me to contact him and tell him he had better keep his promise.

• Proscuitto wrapped Prawns with Goat Cheese
• French Onion Soup with Gruyere and Swiss Cheese
• Salad a la Alison
• Cheese Stuffed Chicken Breasts served with vegetables and Crab Risotto
• Birthday Cake a la Gregg's Mom

It is hard for Gregg's family to go anywhere without bringing some sort of food item. I love this about them. Although I find if they aren't allowed to bring anything, they feel compelled to do your dishes for you. I know you're all thinking, 'Surely she jests', but I kid you not.

So, wish me luck with my forray into gourmet cooking for my chef husband. He always says it tastes great even if it tastes like poo. That's how much he loves me.

1. Only those asking for complimentary beverages said it. "Gimme a tea with honey and two lemons on the side. And a straw." No please afterwards, and most often, no thank you.
2. Those asking for beverages they have to pay for are polite. "Can I have a Blue, please? Thank you."
3. Out of 50 complimentary beverages, half said gimme. HALF.

I find that when confronted when the gimme syndrome, I turn around and immediately fill their request. When I turn back around with the desired beverage, I kill them with kindness. "There you are, sir, and have a wonderful evening." This usually results in wide-eyed stares, as if they're confused and are not sure how to respond to such politeness. Some will mumble a thank you, others simply grab their prize and stalk back into the bells and bright lights.

So why is it, that when receiving something that is free, manners are lost? I don't quite get this. You'd think it would be the other way around. "Wow, this is free? That's so awesome! Thank you so much for getting that for me."

Alas, I will continue my forray into the adventure of manners tonight. I'll run an experiment on how many people will actually get out of the way when they see someone walking with a heavy load.