|Some of our treasures . . .|
Many of our children have settled near us.
I can have grandchildren over whenever I want.
I'm bragging here.
Yesterday, several of my little 'monkey tribe' were over for a visit.
We laughed and giggled.
Created works of art with stickers.
And had sword fights.
It was here that we came to grief.
But not in the way you may imagine.
Let me explain . . .
Their mother dropped them off to play at Grandma's while she ran some errands.
All was well.
We played upstairs.
We moved our play downstairs.
Swords came out of the toy box.
Okay, yes. They play with swords.
Would it help if I said that they were constructed of foam?
Moving on . . .
The two oldest had just squared off against each other.
And Mom came around the corner.
Four-Year-Old's mouth dropped open.
“Mom!” he said indignantly. “We just got started playing!”
Apparently, there's an acceptable length of time when one is playing at Grandma's house.
Brief is definitely not enough.
It's a very good thing.