It seems to me we are a family in a house on fire. It turns out some of the family are arsonists actively working to light new blazes in every room they find, leaving many of us with no obvious fire extinguishers and calling the fire department over and over to stop this thing. 1/8

IN THE COMMUNITY PLAY ROOM #2:
Sitting on the tiny chair at the tiny dining table as Lightning Bug is my waitress.
She asks what I want to drink. I say, “Coffee, please.”

THINGS I LEARNED IN THE COMMUNITY PLAY ROOM #1:
- It’s smart for everyone to wash hands before coming into the room. It will be undermined 4.5 seconds later with the first child to pick their nose and handle the teddy bear.

I love meeting the parents of adult friends.
There is the pleasure of seeing the physical connections between generations - a shared jawline or upturned eyes for example - but what delights me are the unconscious shared gestures:

I know in some families after dinner a child asks, “May I be excused?” and leaves the table.
And that happens here too.
But in our family last night after dinner Lightning Bug announced “I’M LEAVING!”, made vague tiger clawing motions at Carol, and stalked past us saying “Boing. Boing. Boing."

And then my daughter convinced me that defying gravity is not just a song.