It’s a Friday afternoon during school holidays. The kids have been playing beautifully together the whole day and I daren’t interrupt them for fear of spoiling the moments of play. There are marbles under the couch and in far flung corners of the whole house, cushions on the floor surrounded by blocks of all shapes and sizes. There are dress ups strewn in every room and strange looking objects that were once probably the limbs of some poor unsuspecting Barbie, Toy Story character, dinosaur or other now-disfigured piece of plastic made in China.
One day I will have my lounge rug back to its former glory. One day my couch cushions will actually serve their decorative purpose, rather than being used as a landing device to soften the fall when jumping off the couch. One day I won’t find a marble stuck in the pantry cupboard wondering how on earth it found its way there. One day oversized high heels and funny glasses with strange noses will probably be discarded with disdain, as opposed to being seen as very important props in a world of make believe.
In some ways I would rather that day didn’t ever arrive. It is however inevitable, and when it does, it will be ok, because I will remember that kids were once here.