Sometimes I like being wrong

Nifty title, huh?

Here's my alternate title:
How To Have a Fun Outing with Your Whole Family for Six Dollars or Less

Let's start with that latter one.

Saturday morning we braved the insane heat (dear Lord, when will it end? Oh yeah, the end of October, when the rest of the country is zipping up their parkas) and visited the Zilker Botanical Gardens, where we found TWO letterboxes at the gorgeous Japanese garden. The gigantic koi cheered us on as they zipped around their waterlily-spangled ponds. Despite the heat, the kids were totally enthused about the whole thing, which means of course that we were too.


Our final letterbox was hidden right behind the parking lot where "Austin's best" sno-cones were being sold. That's where the six bucks come in. Four sno-cones (Tim and I shared) for $1.50 each equals soaring parental popularity. Because normally our kids are deprived of such things. Ergo, they appreciate it all the more when we shock them with such decadence. It's a great parenting strategy. :-)




Now, back to my original title.
We met some friends for dinner last night at Phil's Icehouse, one of the several places in Austin where you can get very good food AND have a conversation because your kids, in between bites, are merrily occupied on the playground. We'd been wanting to have these particular friends over for a while, partly because we've been total leeches and have always gone to THEIR house (they have a pool; need I say more?). As I scrambled to get the house ready for their post-dinner visit, and then as we all approached the house in our two vehicles, I couldn't help feeling just the teensiest bit apprehensive. Actually, "majorly self-conscious" might be a better description, because I was acutely aware that we could probably fit three or four of our house into their gracious abode, and we have neither pool (unless you count the mosquito-breeding rainwater collections in the sand pails scattered throughout) nor giant trampoline, nor flat-screen TV. Nor full-time housekeeper, for that matter, so our bathroom might not have been pristine. I worried, not so much what the parents would think, because they are the most down-to-earth persons-of-wealth ever, but more what their kids might think. I pictured them walking in, taking a brief look around, wondering where the rest of our house was, and proceeding to yawn the rest of the evening away.

Here's what actually happened: We all walked in and went straight to the backyard, where one of their kids shrieked, "CHICKENS!" and another declared, "Now THIS is a backyard!" Next thing I knew they were completely razzing their dad for not providing them with a tree fort, zipline and tire swing. We all played in the yard until we were completely devoured by the mosquitoes, and then adjourned indoors, where the parents were gracious enough to pore over our family scrapbooks for an hour or more and listen to the accompanying stories, and the kids ran wild. Their daughters, who are several years older than my own, played some long and involved dress-up game with mine, who obeyed their every command. Their son and mine were making shields out of cardboard boxes and helmets out of my mixing bowls. By the time the evening was over, the boys were wrestling on the floor, two smiling blond heads rattling around the hallway, and the girls were all in costume and playing with the race car track that my kids don't notice anymore.

So much for my stupid worries.