Saturday I had an Arbonne party. It’s a home party similar to Mary Kay, Tupperware and the like. I put out a spread of food and some drinks, invited a few friends and had a nice afternoon planned.
Two of my friends brought their girls – one our five year old God Daughter. The other was a sweet little two year old name Addy. I was a bit worried about how these two might sit through the presentation, but we had snacks and a few toys for them to amuse themselves with so it went well at first. When they became a little restless, I sequestered them to a section of carpet with new toys and they continued to play blissfully for a while.
As the afternoon wore down the youngest became increasingly restless and I realized how little there was to do in my home for kids. I felt bad. I tried enticing her with snacks and with the few toys I had, but she was not having it.
Just then my husband came home. Apologetic for interrupting the party he scurried through the living room, went to his desk and occupied himself on the computer. Of course, our five year old wouldn’t stand for that! Now she had Uncle John to play with and she would show Addy what fun it could be! Soon she was tugging his arm and asking him to play with them. He tickled her and turned away from his desk.
I turned my focus back to the party and didn’t notice their antics until we all heard barking from their corner. Yes, barking. John had convinced the two girls that they were all doggies and they were barking (or speaking) to one another. How adorable! Imagine a grown man now on his hands and knees facing two small girls on their hands and knees. He would bark. They would respond in kind. *bark!* *bark!* Each time the little ones would bounce with glee when they all had responded to one another. What fun!
Soon the girls were in hysterics.
As they bounced on our chairs and playfully swatted each other with pillows, John continued to engage them in the revelry. The girls now were entertained, but I noticed John had snagged a huge section of the rug as a makeshift bed. They played and bounced about him, lightly smacking his upturned knees or calling out his name to garner his attention while he lay on the floor – already spent from the activities. Addy would tap his knee ever so slightly and, as John yelped in mock pain, would go running to Mama across the room – a bright smile on her face. Megan would laugh and encourage her to do it again.
And so it went.
At last, it was time to leave and Megan declared “I don’t want to go. I could stay here forever!” John groaned from his position on the floor and the rest of us laughed. The two mothers inquired as to how much his fee was for ongoing babysitting duties to which he declared “You can’t afford me!”
We hugged the girls goodbye, despite their protests, and shooed them off with their mothers promising to do it all again real soon. I felt better about not having toys to play with for the little ones, because, after all, who needs toys when you have Uncle John?