Every day after school, our house becomes a meet up place for all of the kids on our street to gather and play. They share snacks, adventures and an occasional disagreement. They play in the yard, make up games on the swing set and take over our basement playroom. And for the most part, this is completely fine with me. Most of the kids are fairly well behaved, listen when I talk to them and rarely use inappropriate language. The other day, Elliot came to me saying that one of the neighborhood kids had called him, "The B word". I was relieved to find out that the "B word", was butt and not something else. Once in awhile, someone feels left out, or gets their feelings hurt, or scrapes their knee on a stick and I need to intervene with conflict resolution, problem solving, or a first aid kit. But, I am happy to host these kids for two big reasons. First, I would rather have my kids playing at home, than somewhere else. Second, it keeps my kids busy and allows me to finish up laundry, cook dinner or play with the baby. Also, I am happy to see them running around outside, using their imaginations instead of parking themselves in front of the TV.
In our playroom, there are shelves of craft materials. From glue, scissors and paper, to pipe cleaners, puff balls and glitter, there is no end to the creativity that flows out of that room. And that makes my heart sing. However, cleaning up the scraps of paper and wiping down the sticky craft table, does not. There is an unsaid rule (or so I thought), that these supplies shall only be used on the craft table, and for craft purposes.
Well, one afternoon Kadence, Elliot and a few neighborhood kids were all playing downstairs while I was upstairs folding laundry and getting dinner started. I was feeling very good about the fact that the kids were all quiet and seemed to be getting along well. In fact they had been down in the playroom for a good hour, without so much as a peep. I thought this is nice, this is great! I was a fool.
As I crept down those steps and the scene unfolded around me, I simply starred in disbelief at what had happened. How do I describe what I found that day, in that playroom? Imagine an explosion of glue, play dough, glitter and paper covering all surfaces. It was smashed into the carpet. It was painted on the walls. It was everywhere. What does one do, in a moment of such terror?
After I sent the neighborhood kids home, Kadence, Elliot and I had a long talk about the events that had transpired that afternoon as we cleaned, scraped and scrubbed every last inch of that playroom. When I asked them, "Why?", they simply said that they got carried away by their artistic inclinations. Yeah, right. But whatever the reason, I learned a valuable lesson. Rules cannot be left unsaid. They must be clearly laid out and properly dispersed. I also learned to beware of children playing quietly. And most importantly I learned that walls, carpet and children are all washable.
Now, when the kids get out of school every day they have a list of chores they must complete before playing. They also have a clean up check list to finish before bed each night. And as a bonus, I have noticed that even the neighborhood kids have started to help clean up and put things away. Maybe, this will be the end of messy playrooms and wrappers left outside. Maybe this was the last disastrous afternoon I will have to survive. Maybe I can rest assured that these children will never misbehave, fight or destroy anything ever again!
Now, if you'll excuse me I have a house full of children and it's a little too quiet...........
