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The Playplace Experience

"Kids, today we're going to that indoor play place. May the odds be in your favor."

“Kids, today we’re going to that indoor play place. May the odds be in your favor.”

 

Saturday found us staring at snow and limited options of what to do with the children. Our initial reaction, after pulling them out of cabinets and watching them punch each other, was to mail them both to Bangladesh, but we refrained because Bangladesh has never done anything to us, and decided to head to the mall instead.

After a quick walk around the pet store and narrowly avoiding a lady who wanted to run her fingers through the baby’s freakishly thick hair, Husband and I were at a loss as to what to channel the twins energy into.

And then we saw it.

Husband looked at me. “We should send them in there.”

“What does it cost?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“You’re right. We can always sell the car.”

Several moments later, and Butch and Sundance had been turned lose in the giant, indoor play place. Towers to the ceiling, bounce houses in every corner, it seemed the baby strapped to my chest would be our only concern for the next thirty minutes. But that was before things were really in full swing…

Bounce houses:

“Honey?”

“Yes?”

“By my estimation, that slide is roughly twenty feet high.”

“The one the children are flying down?”

“Yes.”

“You’re getting all upset about nothing. That other kid broke their fall. It’s fine.”

Giant Towers:

“Where’s Butch?”

“See that speck up there?”

“I thought that was a pole.”

“No, that’s our son.”

“He’s pretty high up there. I think I just saw a Bald Eagle fly by.”

“Agreed. And the crazy thing is, neither of us could fit in there to save him, if we had to.”

Hiding Spots:

“Did Sundance climb in that inflatable thing?”

“Yeah.”

“When was that?”

“Ten minutes ago.”

“You think she’s coming back out?”

“Probably not. I just found her by the bathrooms.”

Hustling:

“Where are the twins?”

“Sitting on that woman’s lap, waiting for her to surrender that Dora backpack.”

“I should go intervene.”

“Shhh, she may decide to take them and raise them as her own. And now …we wait.”

Don’t worry. By the end of Saturday, every Kellerman was accounted for and dragged back home, where we spent the rest of the evening pulling children out of cabinets and listening to people punch each other while the snow melted.

Paige Kellerman blogs about marriage, babies and gin at www.paigekellerman.com. You can reach her at paigekellerman@gmail.com.

She also hides out on Twitter and Facebook.

 


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