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We went on a rather exciting play date this morning.  There were tons of children there of all ages.  They were causing havoc in a wonderful “wheeeeeeeeee!” kind of way.

The house the play date was at had a truly huge play castle for the kids.  It was on playground-equipment scale.  Two towers, two slides, two rock walls, ladder, steps, three swings:  the kids had a blast.  I was watching the kids on the second story of the castle for a while.  There was a 13 month old up there, a 16 month old, and three kids over two.  Oh, dear Jesus.  There were too many openings, and I was fielding them all, trying to decide which child had the highest risk of falling to pick that one to chase back towards the center.  It turned into a game of, “You can’t catch me!”  I won’t be having five kids anytime soon, and needless to say, I was having a stroke.

One of the mothers moseyed on over and she said to me, “You look so relaxed, I don’t know how you do it.”  I turned around to gauge whether she was being sarcastic or not, but she was sincere.  It knocked me over, because, I realized I was having a great time.  Even while chasing those little wild cats all over the place, I was having the time of my life.  The sun was shining, the breeze was up, and all these little ones were hanging onto me, holding out fat little arms to be caught.  Life doesn’t get much better than that for me.

Buttercup was an absolute darling, too.  She played nicely, was so achingly gentle with the babies, and she even helped me clean up the toys before we went outside to play.  She’s becoming such a mature little lady.  It breaks my heart.

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