Onions? Are you kidding me?

Yesterday was an unseasonably warm day at 70 degrees. It was the kind of day you would kick yourself for if you did not take advantage of it and get the heck outside. So in lieu of kicking myself, I decided to take Charlie on his first outing. This baby has spent no more than five minutes out of doors at a time. We were hit with a blizzard on the day he was born and it has been snowing ever since. Consequently, Charlie's trips outside have involved running from the house to the car and from the car to the grocery store or the pediatrician.

He loved being outside. See?

The breezes hitting his face really delighted him. He would flutter his eyes rapidly and smile an uncertain, crooked grin. He didn't know where to look first when we were in the park. He would look in the direction of a child's squeals of delight, then in the direction of someone singing on the swings, then in the direction of a little girl ringing the bell on her bicycle. It must of been too much for him - the sunshine, the wind, the noises, the figures passing by - because this is what happened after the five or so minutes he tried to take it all in.

After all he is only seven weeks old and should not be expected to do more than focus on one small object, maybe follow it with his eyes a bit and then fall asleep.

The highlight of the afternoon was our trip to Pat's King of Steaks. Though Jesse and I lived in a tiny apartment right next door to Geno's (the rival steak shop across the street from Pat's), we only go to Pat's. Don't get me wrong, I patronized Geno's many times at about 11 o' clock at night when I was pregnant with William and was frequently eating a fourth meal every day. However, I now hold a grudge against Geno's.

Was it was the power washer that blasted Geno's sidewalks clean and me out of a sound sleep every night at 3:30 a.m.? No.

Was it the drunken Eagles fans that would come to Geno's after a game or when the bars closed and would cheer "E-A-G-L-E-S" so passionately it would wake my baby up? No.

Was the the motorcycle gangs that would patronize Geno's on Sundays with modified exhaust pipes on their Harley Davidsons that were so overwhelmingly loud they made my heart skip a beat and brought tears to my eyes? No.

This grudge is over the one thing that turns neighbors against one another and causes people to flagrantly ignore the laws and ordinances that help keep order in our city - parking. Once the infamous owner Joey Vento had my car towed and reparked down the street, so he could have a parking spot closer to his business. He reparked my car in South Philadelphia when I had a newborn baby and wanted only to have my car as close to my front door as possible. He took my parking spot. From that moment on Joey Vento and Geno's were dead to me.

Anyway, William was excited and was running about a half a block in front of us.

When we got to the window to order, William proceeded to read the entire menu to me. William reads every word he sees aloud. A majority of the menu is variations on a theme, not a list of different items: Steak Sandwich, Cheesesteak, Mushroon Cheesesteak, Pizza Steak. At the very bottom of the sandwich menu you are given three additional options: hot dog, roasted pork sandwich, and fishcake. William of course wanted a hotdog, not a cheesesteak. I told him he could order for both of us when we got to the window, this was the only way he would learn what every Philadelphian should know how to do - order a cheesesteak.

"What can I getcha?" the man behind the window asked.

"Um, I'll have a hot dog with ketchup, please" he said, "My mommy wants, mommy what do you want again?"

"I want a mushroom cheesesteak," I said.

"Mushrooms mommy?," William asked, I nodded, he wrinkled his nose and turned back to the man. "She'll have a mushroom cheesesteak," William said.

"What kinda cheese?" the man asked very patiently.

"What kinda cheese mommy?" William asked.

"Provolone cheese," I said. There are three cheese options: American, Provolone, and Wiz.

"Provolone cheese," William said to the man.

"Wit er witout," the man asked.

"What?" William asked, "With or without what?"

"Wit er witout onions," the man told him.

"Oh, onions. Onions? Are you kidding me?" William said, "Who would want onions? My mommy doesn't want onions."

And he was right, I didn't. I wanted my cheesesteak witout.