Liveblogging the Playdate

The funniest thing... this morning when I told the three big boys they could each have a friend over this afternoon, I think I must have been experiencing a serious post-exercise endorphin high. And also a bit of Crazy. If I'm remembering this morning correctly, it also didn't look like it was going to be cold and rainy. My vision of the afternoon consisted of drive-ways and bike riding and fun in the great outdoors.

So here we are on the brink of having three friends over. And the funny thing about when my boys have friends over is that it always involves more boys! So for about 90 minutes (but who's counting?) there will be eight boys in my house. This should be interesting. It would probably be even more insightful, or less intimidating anyway, if it involved me having a glass of wine. But for some reason I don't think that would really qualify as Responsible Parenting. And as far as Responsible Parenting goes, I'm all for it!

(p.s. I'm not really intimidated. Not now that I'm hiding in the closet, anyway...)

3: 56 p.m. -- The last of the three boys arrives. Charlie is being very good about including Augie.

4:02 p.m. -- Henry wants to be included as well. But they are playing Legos. I put Henry in his jumpy seat so he can be part of the scene without ingesting it.

4:06 p.m. -- Charlie: "Now I'm getting bored. Don't worry, I'm getting something to eat."

4:07 p.m. -- Friend #3: "I'm starving! My mom wouldn't let me have anything to eat."

4:08 p.m. -- Me: "Let's not walk through the house eating please."

4:08 p.m. -- #3 walks over to me. He is eating a granola bar. He shows me the lego ship he made; it's pretty cool.

4:09 p.m. -- Charlie: "What do you want to do now, old chum?" They walk off.

4:10 p.m. -- I can't believe I'm liveblogging a playdate.

4: 13 p.m. -- Charlie and #3 invite Elliott and #2 to play Medieval Times. #3 isn't exactly sure what that means, he admits, but they bundle up to give it a shot.

4:13 p.m. -- Ethan and #1 are waiting upstairs to "bombard." Ethan's bed is covered with plastic swords and guns. And also all his Valentine's candy.

4:15 p.m. -- Twenty minutes in and I'll admit it's going just fine. It's so much calmer than when they were toddlers and we'd have playdates.

4:18 p.m. -- Charlie and his bud walk into the study with a bag of Cheetos. "The kitchen," I declare, "is now closed."

4:21 p.m. -- I handwash all the dishes from snacktime. The water warms me up. I walk away from the sink to find the backdoor wide open. No wonder I'm cold.

4:22 p.m. -- Ethan and #1 run through the kitchen wielding lightsabers.

4:28 p.m. -- "We need to get ready for war," Charlie declares. "We need weapons, weapons, weapons!"

4:30 p.m. -- "There's this guy," Elliott says walking in from the garage, "who can do the pogo stick on the handles." I nip that thought in the bud. He smiles, like he's starting to understand where I'm coming from. It's enough that he jumps without holding on to the handles; I draw the line at him standing on them.

4:33 p.m. -- A war is breaking out in the playroom. Henry is stuck in the middle.

4: 37 p.m. -- Elliott and #2 each have a paper towel with a small mound they are bent over licking. "Throw that away," I tell them. "You don't need to be eating salt." "It's not salt," they assure me. "It's sugar." Even better.

4:45 p.m. -- "Fight like a maaaaan," someone yells in the distance. I linger for an extra moment in the bathroom and note I'm having a good hair day.

4:54 p.m. -- Henry is gnawing on someone's discarded school sock. He puts it down before I even reach him. Smart kid.

4:58 p.m. -- T minus 17 minutes. I treat myself to a Dove's Promises (dark chocolate). "Test your own limits," it tells me, "and keep going." I kid you not.

5:03 p.m. -- Time to round them up and clean up the playroom. "Soldiers of War," I bellow from the bottom of the stairs, "To your post!" We all work together and get the room clean in no time.

5:10 p.m. -- Everyone gets a snack. We load up. "This is a day," says Charlie to Friend #3, "that we will remember to our graves."

A wonderful adventure indeed.