For weeks they set up their space; they made a music circle and a fort under the table. They brought down pillows and blankets and every single stuffed animal they own, all in anticipation of their BIG NIGHT.
On Friday their friends were dropped off, the movie projector was set up, popcorn was popped, and the playing, which didn't get punctuated with sleep till the early morning hours, began.
Those five little faces, ten arms, and ten legs, tangled together for hours and hours, crying in perfect laughter.
I had grand visions of pintrest-worthy crafts and homemade pizzas and a breakfast beach picnic, but it the end, my laziness prevailed and I let those little buzzards be little buzzards without parental intervention. Tom and I had a drink and watched Orange is the New Black while they rollicked in the basement below.
In the morning we made monkey bread and cooked-up farmer's market meats, and they were off again for hours and hours.