Based upon today's weather forecast for rain I decided it would be wise to get some energy out of the kids outside the home. I opted to take them to the locally operated rec center's Itty Bitty City. We have been to this multiple times and the kids really seem to get worn out so I thought it a good scheme. We haven't gone in quite some time so I have conveniently forgotten a lot of the aspects of said "city." It is good for me to go to this place every once in awhile simply to remind myself that my kids are not that bad and neither am I!
It is basically a fairly good sized indoor playground held in a gym and for a couple dollars your kids can feel as though they are running their own show. It is a miniature dictatorship where the biggest kid with the loudest mouth reigns supreme. A true scene from Tot Mafia. There are trikes, cars, bikes, balls, tiny trampoline, midget gym equipment and a plethora of other gadgets and toys to occupy the attention of the miniatures. The kids run amok, yell at the tops of their lungs and generally wreak havoc. There is more screaming, yelling and flailing than at a KISS concert and more bonked heads and shenanigans than in an episode of The Three Stooges. It's your garden variety train wreck all encompassed in one room. Tykes anywhere from 6 months to 6 years fill this gym. I guess they figure "If you can crawl, you can brawl!"
The mom's and dad's are so busy sipping on their gigantic lattes and mochachinos and talking trash that they fail to notice that Little Jimmy is running around giving a swift kick in the a$$ to any kid that crosses him. Most are so engrossed in their allotted 2 hours of adult time for the day that they don't even bother to discipline, reprimand or even give notice to most of the transgressions being passed down. There are sharing breeches, drive by's and a heap load of spills. It's actually pretty entertaining if you don't have any emotional attachment to the victim and it's only funny because 99.9% of the time there is absolutely nothing wrong with the kid. I've actually enjoyed laughing at my own taking diggers of different varieties and encourage others to do the same. I will be laughing at their kid soon enough so I feel it's important to share the wealth.
For the 1st hour or so my little's stay pretty close to me for fear of unprotected infractions. They need to warm up a bit and see where they fit into this communist community. They size up the other kids both intellectually, physically and attitudinally. It's a nice little study in child psychology really. My gal totes my boy around by the hand for a couple of laps, stares down a few of the obvious deviants and gives the hairy eyeball to anyone having a fit. They are both kind of like robots for the first few. We played a good bit of trucks to start out and being that they didn't supply the right sized vehicles for the provided ramp I busted out a few of our own. Being that I carry a diaper bag large & full enough to escape to Mexico at the drop of a dime, I have some surplus. This contribution seemed like a good idea at the time. Little did I know that would be about the last we saw of those self-supplied articles for the duration. The concept of "MINE!" is not real ingrained in my petite peeps so they just moved on to greener pastures. I was just dreading our departure time and the eventual retrieval process bringing someone to tears...my kid or theirs--either way I knew SOMEONE would be crying!
There was one boy there today who I named Camo Kid...he was camouflaged from head to toe--literally. The hat, the jacket, shirt, pants--even his BOOTS were camouflage. I had my eye on him from the start because he just looked like the type of kid that might start some shit. He was running around full tilt boogie, "finger guns" a blazing "shootin' up" anyone in his path. He was putting fear into the hearts of all approaching assailants. Being a helicopter mom for a moment I ushered my offspring away from him as I wasn't really looking forward to having to discipline some stranger's kid today.
Be that as it may, I ended up having to anyway. It was a non-verbal discipline, thank goodness but discipline nonetheless. One of the props to play with was one of those HUGE rainbow-colored sectional parachutes with handles around the circumference for the parents to whoosh into the air so the kids could play underneath. Kinda like a massive mushroom. It's kind of an unspoken rule, if your kid wants to play under the life-sized balloon you best pick up a handle and assist and you damned sure better be on hand to make sure your midget isn't acting a fool.(In retrospect perhaps these are just MY rules but whatever) After about 10 minutes of chute wafting the atrophied, un-toned arms of most are getting tired. Parents are dropping like flies. A little one about 3 years old sees this as a fine opportunity to get on TOP of the chute. The hard-working parents are just chatting away, not paying attention to the fact that little miss is dragging the whole operation down with her size 4 diaper butt and the midgets below are in danger of suffocation and entrapment. Not really but you get the idea--she was gummin' up the works and impeding progress. Also, the underlings were getting restless and a little freaked out as they were somewhat trapped below. This evil knievel looks up at me and smiles the devilish grin of a mini who knows she is doing something she isn't supposed to. I look around for her guardian and come up empty. Where the hell is this girl's mom and why is she not watching her kid? I give it another minute, look around, see nothing so I finally take her by the hand and usher her off the chute. She glared at me as though I'd just ran over her puppy but I felt firm in my decision. I was happy to be the bad guy for the good of the whole. We then unearthed the kids screaming below the chute and assured them that fear of small places and confinement was not necessary and kindly moved onto something else.
After almost 2 hours of play my boy started asking to go home. I was more than happy to retreat but wasn't quite sure how to go about getting our motor vehicles home with us. I had seen one car in the grips of a snotty nosed 3-year-old for at least 30 minutes and the other was actively being passed around at the ramp rug. I knew my kids were cool with sharing but I wasn't so sure how they would feel about donating. I tried to suggest such and was greeted with a huge fat lip and alligator tears telling me that I was not going to get off that easy. By sheer luck, the plague-infested, (soon to be seriously disinfected) police car had been abandoned in the middle of the gym for a VERY painless retrieval. The firetruck did not hold the same fate. It was one of those love affairs. I think the kid half thought he would get off by just palming the truck and skating out of there with a new toy. He had that protective mechanism about his play that said "This is MY truck." He was not down for sharing it, loaning it or even letting it out of his hand. I made a backdoor comment when my boy went to reaching for it that I understood that it was his but we were sharing. Luckily the Truck Nazi's dad was sitting with him and made the transition a lot easier than it could have been. When I started gathering our goods the dad started prepping the kid to give it up. Mini man would hear nothing of it. His dad asked him to hand it over and the kid swiped it back. Then the dad went to gather it from his hands and this 2-year-old boy put a Kung Fu grip on this truck to the likes of which I had never seen. His face turned red and you could hear the kid grunting to keep hold. The dad was the final victor of the battle which was when the water works began. This poor boy cried so hard it almost broke my heart--almost! Had it not been for the simple fact that I would have the same battle on my hands I would have handed it over happily but this was not the case. I took the truck and ran. I thought if the truck was out of his sight he would soon forget about it and move on. I quickly barked the name of the store where we bought the truck and skipped out of there unscathed.
All in all it was a great morning. The kids had a blast, worked off some energy, got a view of what life might be like if they had the "other mom" or "other sibling" they sometimes wish for and I also got an appreciation for my kiddos and the fact that they really could be a lot worse. I am so blessed to have my midgets. Even though I complain about them and some days threaten to donate them to a worthy cause I love them with all my heart. I am glad they are mine and wouldn't trade them for any other on the planet. It's amazing what a morning with other people's kids will do to give ya a little perspective! Hope you have a weekend filled with "perspective!" XOXOX!
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