DADWAGON

Last night I ate dinner at Da Danilo, a traditional Roman trattoria that makes what’s supposed to be one of the city’s best spaghetti alla carbonara. (It is very good.) I arrived just about 9:30 to find Margherita Vittoria waiting for me.

Now, she was not actually waiting for me, per se. In fact, she had no idea I even existed. But when I saw her baby carriage—a Peg Perego, I think—in the corner, I knew she’d been placed there especially for me. Margherita Vittoria, 6 months old, was dining out with her parents.

I don’t have much to say about this, really, except: A baby!!! Outside!!! At night!!! In a restaurant!!! A nice one too!!!

Yes, she cried a bit. No, none of us cared.

Eventually, around 11pm, M.T. left with her mother and, I think, an aunt, while papa and grandpa finished their meal. I was probably the only one who noticed.

Then I went back to my braised oxtail, my glass of Furore, and my legitimate dinner companion, Simona.