It’s a rainy day here…again. After coloring, playing “doggie” (during which my children beg me for a real puppy again and again), making banana muffins AND orange jello, both kids begged me to play hide and seek with them.
We count in the kitchen, in the center of our house. For some reason, when I join in the game, it’s much more fun for them. I count to thirty, slowly, so that I can tidy up my counters in the meantime. And then I follow their giggles and their, “Mama, come find us!” because they can’t, no matter how much you tell them that THAT’S how the game works, be quiet in their hiding places.
Usually, they hide together. And even though they’ve hidden in my closet (and behind the piano and on the side of the couch and underneath Annabel’s desk) over and over again, each time I find them they scream with such delight and pride, expressions on their grinning faces saying, “How DID you ever find me here?”
It’s even funnier when it’s my turn to hide. I decided to lay on top of Luke’s bed, in full sight. They looked in his closet, underneath his window seat (a.k.a. the “manhut”), and walked right past me. Ten minutes and half a snooze later, they bounded on top of me, shrieking that I’d found the best hiding place ever. Covered with their sweaty little bodies and their sloppy kisses, I again took my turn to count and let them seek out the hiding place to end all hiding places.
Not surprising, they both hid on top of Luke’s bed.
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