We've only been there twice, but we refer to it as "our place."
On Saturday we spent the day clattering helter-skelter from one place to another. We had a divide and conquer policy going on.
I did the swimming lessons, the birthday party drop off and pick up, the two, yes TWO trips to the local fete. This was so that all the offspring got to experience the fun of lucky dips, rides and the sheer pleasure of the crowds wandering around in pursuit of a bargain, or just enjoying the pleasure of a family day out.
He did the renovation preparation for the start of Stage 2 of the works. Much messier, dustier and involving shifting innumerable items from one room to another.
Suffice to say we'd have both happily crawled into bed at 6pm for a dreamless sleep for 12 hours if we'd been able to.
But we'd booked the restaurant, the babysitter and my dress was hanging, freshly ironed in the cupboard begging to be taken out.
So amidst great yawns we dressed up and headed out.
To our place.
The little Italian restaurant that's tucked away just streets from the beach. And we enjoyed delicious food, wonderful wine and remembered.
We remembered how to laugh again. We reminisced, we planned and we dreamed together.
And I thought as I always do after a night out how exceptionally lucky I am.
And the week ahead seems filled with promise and happiness, instead of dust and delays.
That's what date night always does.
Well at "our place" anyway.