He greeted a few people as he came through the door, and here is where the fun began for us. He took one look at Colum suspended off my person, excused himself from the small talk he was having and came right over.
“Who is this little man,” he asked.
“Colum Mooney,” I managed to say without stammering. “Colum James Mooney,” I repeated not really knowing why!
He gently grabbed Colum’s hands and shook them energetically.
Colum responded as best he could with some coos and ahh’s and an odd squeal here and there.
Clinton said a few more words to Colum directly, none of which I can remember because I was literally star struck (not like me) and then he kindly stood for a picture with us.
Moments later he was whisked into the main function room where he gave an outstanding speech, and boy was I glad he left when he did.
About a minute later my little “gentleman” passed the loudest/smelliest gas that had potential to knock a donkey. Thankfully I was alone in a corner when Colum decided to go for it. I guess I should be grateful for his timing. Now that could have been deadly embarrassing!
Colum slept for the remainder of the afternoon while I updated my Facebook status with the news that we had met the president. Yes, I’m not shy about dropping names that’s for sure!
Fast-forward to St. Patrick’s Day itself. This was also another special occasion.
Although the day began a little hairy with thousands of drunken teenagers falling all over Grand Central Station and the streets surrounding it (I questioned was it the right day and place to bring my three-month-old), as soon as we got down to Sixth Avenue we were much more at home.
I met with my friend Orla and her 17-month-old son Emmet, and we proudly marched behind the Co. Kerry banner. Despite the nearly two-hour wait on the street before it was our turn to march, it was definitely a lovely opportunity that may not present itself again.
Donning the Kerry football jersey in his stroller Colum was memorized by all the people and noise. It was a wonderful day.
During the week I met a number of friends for lunch at various eateries in Woodlawn and Yonkers, and all in all it was a lovely week -- with just one embarrassing moment.
During a lunch in the Irish Coffee Shop on McLean Avenue a girl I hadn’t seen in a few years came over to my table to say hello. She was meeting Colum for the first time and the conversation was great.
That was until she reached for my head and touched my hair.
“I think you have paint in your hair. Were you painting?” she asked.
“Eh, paint, no, maybe it’s dust or something,” I said, unable to figure out what it could be.
“No, not dust,” she said. “It’s stuck to it.”
Slightly embarrassed, I rushed home to check out the painty substance in my hair to finally realize it was my son’s vomit.
Just before we left the house Colum had spewed up while over my shoulders. I guess I hadn’t cleaned it all up like I thought I had.
So there you have it -- Colum’s first St. Patrick’s week in New York. I wonder what will next year have in store! God only knows.
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