Greek food, Jacob, and laziness

Tonight was the annual Greek Festival at the local Greek Orthodox Church. I have gone in the past and enjoyed it, though it's always crowded and the food was not as ethnic as I anticipated. But this year they promised spanikopita and saganyaki (spelling? that flamed cheese). Sue was to come for happy hour tonight, so I emailed to see if she and the kids would like to go up there to dinner, but she said she'd prefer a happy hour visit and then curling up. So I decided to create a mini-Greek food festival. I asked the cheesemonger at Central Market for the "Greek cheese that they flame" and bought dolma. Tried to find frozen spanikopita but had to settle for Stouffer's spinach souffle (frozen dinner entrees are definitely not on my usual list and it was not as good as my mom's souffle).
I waited till Sue got here to flame the cheese, which made her very nervous, but it was really good--you flour and fry slices, sprinkle with lemon and brandy, and flame. I had to add more brandy to get it to flame. But that and the dolma made a great appetizer, and I probably didn't need the souffle but I ate half of it. And I'm like Sue--glad to be settled in at home. Had a great long nap this afternoon--the kind where you wake up, realize there's nothing you have to get up for, and go back to sleep. Got up, fed the dog, did my yoga routine, and it was happy hour time.
The day did not start so peacefully. .Forget everything I said about Jacob and me co-existing peacefully. He was a wild man this morning. Would not let me change his diaper, wash his face and hands, brush his teeth, although he ate a good breakfast. Jordan helpfully called a little before nine and asked that I please get him dressed in his blue jeans and white shirt (they all wore that outfit and went off to have their pictures taken in the Botanic Garden). Was she kidding? I managed to change the diaper, and I got the jeans halfway on three times but each time he began to kick his legs. He was having a high old time, gleefully throwing all the cushions and everything off the daybed--Jordan asked if he was building a tunnel, and I said I hardly thought that was it. He flung himself from one end of the bed to the other, laughing, screaming--and taunting me. I admit I lost control and went to clean up the breakfast dishes. Even his parents, two of them, had a hard time corraling him and having to do some serious talk about spankings and time out. When he left, looking adorable, he gave me the sweetest kiss ever. Ah, two years old!
It was 12:30 before I read the morning paper. I love it that Obama wants to get a pup from the pound but they're mostly--what was his word? curs? mutts?--like him. Apparently the older daughter has allergy problems. I think they need a labradoodle. They live in Hyde Park in Chicago, the neighborhood where I grew up, and I am most curious to know their street address. Want to picture it in my mind.
I think I won't do another constructive thing tonight.