Last weekend, Little Man and I were flying solo. I was, admittedly, worried, but we actually had a pretty good time. Here are some highlights-
Friday Night- Pizza with Little Man's new best pal "Skeeter" over at MGM's. Skeeter is about a year older, so Little Man had a great time following him around and playing with all the new toys that were, as he claimed, obviously "mine." Plus MGM sent us home with a big old box of some great clothes. Apparently, Skeeter has a closet the size of Oprah's, because we barely made a dent.
Saturday- We did some shopping, ate at the golden arches place (which we never normally do) and then went to a local indoor play area. Can I just say that I'm in love?
Ok, so logically I know those ball pit things are the most disgusting, bacteria-laden areas on this planet. The rational mother in me knows that we should just get some of those bio-hazard bags they have at hospitals in the jumbo size and get rid of all of them. But that's what purel is for, right?
Little Man loved it. Hundreds and hundreds of balls to surround him, to jump in, to throw for mama to run after and replace. Who needs Disney World when there are local indoor playgrounds with ball pits? Germs aside, ball pits are one of the quintessential experiences of childhood. Who am I to argue?
Said indoor playground also had games to play and little mechanized rides that you used tokens for. Turns out that Skee-ball lasts a heckofa lot longer when you have trouble getting enough oomph to get that little wooden ball up the ramp. Plus, there's tickets. Little Man loved that the ball games gave us tickets. As soon as one would pop out, he'd rip it off. Suffice it to say that the poor teenage kid working the prize booth wasn't half as amused as I was when I handed her almost 100 single tickets to claim our bouncy ball.
So it was a good weekend. Easier than I thought it would be, but having him all to myself makes me realize even more that I am going to be miserable in Boston for three days without him.