'Twas the 28th of October

The Playgroup is coming!
The Playgroup is coming!

I gallop through the house, alerting all and sundry that we are about to be invaded. Baby C doesn't look up from the Cheerios she's eating off the kitchen floor. The cat opens one eye and goes back to scratching my sofa. Their message is clear: any preparations will be my responsibility, unless you figure (as I do) that the baby eating food off the floor negates the need to mop it.

I'm not worried about the six babies. It's their mommies who may not come in peace. Our playgroup met for the first time last week. Our hostess' abode sparkled. Current baby pictures hung on the walls, and dinner simmered aromatically in a crock pot. Now, it's our turn.

The only aromatic thing in the kitchen emanates from the garbage can. I glance at my bare bookshelves and calculate whether I can shelve all the books that have been in our basement for the past year. Probably not. Then I debate the merits of cleaning and decide against it. If I start mopping for this crowd now, there's no telling where it might lead by the time Baby C hits kindergarten. I settle on sweeping up the crumbs the baby missed, banishing the cat upstairs, and replacing the Pearl Jam CD with Kindermusik. Now, we wait.