Inner-Child Indulgences and Adult Exhaustion

This weekend was a kid extravaganza for Mr. Wonderful and me.

Friday night, we had my cousin, her husband, and their six and four-and-a-half year-old boys over for a backyard campout. We hatched the plan a couple months ago during a barbecue at our house, during which the boys played "paleontologists" in the backyard for hours. They were having so much fun, that when my cousin K mentioned wanting to do a tent-in-the-backyard night, I suggested they come to our house for it. Little did I know that their 10' x 10' tent would just barely fit on our largest patch of grass.

We ate burgers and hot dogs, roasted 'smores over the open fire of our gas stove, and even managed to squeeze in a viewing of Kung Fu Panda. At some point, one of the boys referred to Mr. W as "Uncle Ben."

His name is not Ben, so we all got a huge kick out of this. No idea where he pulled that one from, but we've decided Mr. W should go into the rice business.

Before bed, we inflated two air mattresses and squeezed them into the tent, building a nest of fleece blankies on each. We said goodnight to the husbands, who slept inside of course, and spent a few minutes making shadow puppets on the wall before turning off our flashlight. Then I spent the next 8 hours listening to the neighbor's TV, ghetto birds, sirens, the squeaking of bodies against air mattresses, and, at one point, the six-year-old—who sat up and started talking gibberish about someone needing to "turn off the fan."

I'm fairly certain I slept for a total of 7 minutes.

At 6:30 a.m. when both boys were bright-eyed, bushy tailed, Mr. W came outside and shushed us for being loud. Thankfully, he went back in the house and started making us breakfast.

Several pancakes and bacon strips later, it was time for the visiting clan to pack up and go home. And for Mr. W and me to stare at each other catatonically before taking a nap. We were back in bed by 9:15 a.m.

That night, we were invited to a laser tag birthday party. For a thirty-nine-year-old, naturally.

Neither of us had ever played laser tag before, so we weren't quite sure what to expect. What we got was pummeled by a small army of people under 4 feet tall. A lot of the party guests had brought along their kids so, in addition to lots of ear-piercing screams of joy in the maze's pre-entry room, we also got hit by a boatload of midget gunfire.

Kids are so super sneaky. They'd hide around corners—below our eye level—and blast us like they'd been doing it since birth. High-pitched little ninjas.

Again, we were exhausted when all was said and done.

Although I usually think of myself as a stunted adult, who is still probably about 77.8% kid inside, being around children all weekend made me realize that I am, in fact, an old lady.

I really did adore spending time with all the little ones this weekend. They're extremely entertaining. But I think the next camping trip and round of laser tag will likely involve a Glamp-ground in Washington and maybe laser vests that match our caveman outfits. Maybe we'll even play paleontologists...