A Memorable Memorial Day

We've moved back home and are settling into our old routines.  This week will serve as the mold for the next few months. With the school year winding down, the discussions about homework and grades will end for a while. The discussions will turn from homework and grades to summer activities and reading. We tried and successfully had a low keyed memorial day with lots of free play for the girls and quiet time for me and my husband.  Our house, we once thought too small, seems like a mansion since we've spent the last six weeks in one room.  At around 5 p.m., I decided to take the girls to the playground to burn some energy. They were thrilled. So we loaded into our minivan, made a quick stop at KFC to pick up some grilled chicken and sides and headed to one of our favorite playgrounds.  Once my girls saw the playground, eating was out of the question.  They raced toward the swings and insisted on being pushed. After the swings the children raced from one thing to the next on the playground finally settling on the sand play area.  In short order, my 3 year old had sand in her hair and eyes. She ran to me crying that she had bumped her head on the equipment and demanded that I kiss her boo boo. After giving her one of mommy's magic kisses, I proceeded to help her get the sand out of her eyes. As soon as her full vision was restored she ran back to the sand area. I quietly ate my grilled chicken and slaw while watching my girls play. After about 2 hours, I decided it was time to go home. It was getting dark and late. I gave my girls the usual 10 minute warning and began to watch the time closely.  I yelled out a five minute warning to my girls and opened the automatic door on our Toyota Sienna to cool the interior of the vehicle. I gathered the uneaten food and put it in the van. Since I had parked parallel to the playground and not in a parking space, I remained only steps away from the bench I sat in to watch my girls. Since I'm a paranoid mom who wants only to watch my girls grow up healthy, secure, happy and yes successful (meaning they don't live in my basement when they are 40), I never took my eyes off of them.  I called to them hoping the warnings would stave off the tantrums that usually followed a good time. My 4 year old came quickly although unhappy about leaving her beloved playground.  My 3 year old was another story. She responded as if she had been shot. She threw herself on the ground and began to wail. I quietly picked her up and moved toward our minivan.  Once we were all loaded and buckled in, I took us home. A warm bath and the bedtime routine.