When Cara and her husband received an invitation to an adults-only party, they jumped at the chance for a break from their three rambunctious kids. Thankfully, Cara’s parents were willing to babysit. But when they returned to pick up the kids later, they were astonished by the change in their behavior.
“Are you sure the kids will be okay?” my husband, Jason, asked as I rummaged through my closet to find something to wear.
“Yes!” I exclaimed. “They’ll be just fine with my parents.”
“But you know how they can be,” Jason said. “Our kids are a handful.”
“They’ll be fine,” I reassured him.
The truth was, Jason had a point. Our kids were a handful. They were always full of energy, constantly competing for our attention.
We were excited about the invitation to the party, especially since it was an adults-only affair.
“I’m so glad it’s a party for grown-ups, Cara,” Jason said, ironing his shirt. “We need a break from our little monsters.”
I couldn’t have agreed more. I just wanted to enjoy some good food and have a few drinks without sticky fingers tugging at my clothes. We had been on our own with the kids for five years, with no help from anyone.
My in-laws had passed away before the kids were born, and my parents had only recently moved closer to us.
“We figured it was time to downsize and be closer to you and the grandbabies,” my mother had said when they first told me about their decision to move.
Finally, we had my parents as a much-needed support system.
“Don’t worry, Cara,” my father would always say. “Retirement is all about taking care of the grandchildren.”
Our kids were wild. There was Simon, our five-year-old and the eldest, Max, who was three, and our little Lily, who was just a year younger than Max.
They were constantly on the move, making it impossible for me to even use the bathroom without them getting into trouble.
Just the other day, I was trying to make dinner when chaos erupted in the living room.
“Lily, stop climbing on the bookshelf!” I shouted, rushing over to grab her before the whole thing came crashing down.
“But Mommy, I’m a superhero!” she protested, wriggling out of my grasp.
Meanwhile, Max was bouncing on the couch, chanting, “Boing, boing, boing!” as if he had an endless supply of energy.
At least Simon was in the kitchen with me, calmly nibbling on a bowl of grapes.
“Max, please sit down!” I pleaded, trying to corral both of them.
“Why?” he asked innocently. “Bouncing is fun!”
“I said so!” I replied, already feeling defeated.
I longed for a break, so when the party invitation arrived, I was thrilled, and so was my husband.
“Come on,” I called, rounding up the kids as I put on my shoes. “It’s time to go!”
My husband buckled the kids into the car seats, giving each one a fruit roll-up to keep them occupied during the drive to my parents’ place.
We dropped off the kids and headed to the party, excited for a few hours of grown-up conversation and no sticky fingers.
“Now, this is a party,” Jason said, kissing my cheek as he handed me a glass of champagne.
“I couldn’t agree more,” I said, sipping the champagne. “But I wonder what the kids are up to.”
My husband laughed and grabbed a piece of cheese. “Your dad will keep the boys entertained, and I’m sure your mom has taken Lily to see the chickens in the coop.”
My parents were pretty modern, except for their chicken coop. They insisted on keeping it after they moved.
The party flew by in a blur of adult company, laughter, and dancing. We had a wonderful time with our friends, without a worry in the world.
But underneath it all, we missed our little monsters.
After six hours, we returned to my parents’ house to pick up the kids, expecting the living room to be in shambles. But we were in for a surprise.
There they were, my usually rowdy boys, sitting calmly at the table, chatting and smiling with my parents. Lily was fast asleep on the couch, sucking her thumb.
“What did you do to them?” I blurted out, unable to contain my astonishment.
My parents just chuckled and waved it off, but I was dying to know their secret.
“Jason, want some pie?” my mother asked. “Lily and I made it earlier.”
My husband eagerly followed my mother into the kitchen, and my father excused himself to the bathroom.
“Mommy, please,” Max said, coming up to me. “Please don’t leave us here again…”
“Why not?” I asked, kneeling to his level.
“He means, don’t leave us here for such a short time,” Simon added. “We had so much fun here!”
“What did you do with Grandma and Grandpa?” I asked, curious to hear their answer.
“Grandma was busy with Lily. They cleaned the chicken coop and made pie,” Max said.
“And Grandpa took us to the attic to build a dollhouse. He said it’s not just for girls. He showed us how to use a hammer and sweep away the dirt,” Simon explained.
“He said it’s important for boys to know these things. And then Grandma called us, and we all made pizza together! We can make it at home. We can teach you, Mom!”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My kids, who could never sit still for more than five minutes, had spent the day building and cooking.
And they loved it.
“Cara, you have to try this pie,” Jason said, handing me a slice. “It’s amazing!”
By that point, my parents had joined us in the living room.
“So, it turns out all it took was building and cooking?” I asked, beaming.
My mom smiled.
“They’re good kids, darling. They just needed some focus and new activities. And besides, we missed out on so much when they were younger.”
My father chimed in, as always.
“You know, Jason, Cara, kids just need to feel useful. It’s easy for them to fall into a routine and go a little wild at home. We learned that from raising you and your brother,” my father chuckled.
Jason and I thanked my parents profusely, and they brushed it off, saying how much they enjoyed the day.
“We need to do this more often,” my mother said. “Bring them over anytime, even for sleepovers!”
As we strapped the kids into the car, ready to head home for bath time and bed, I felt a sense of calm wash over me.
We got the kids settled at home, with Jason taking care of the boys’ bath time while I handled Lily’s nighttime routine.
“Momma,” she said sleepily. “It was really nice being with Grandma today.”
“I’m glad you had fun,” I replied.
“Can we get a chicken?” she asked. “Grandma showed me how to clean the coop.”
“Not yet, sweetie. For now, you can play with Grandma’s chickens,” I said with a smile.
After an hour, all three kids were tucked into bed, and Jason and I were ready to get some rest ourselves.
“It’s been a wonderful day,” my husband said as he brushed his teeth. “I don’t know what your parents did, but let’s hope it works for our busy little ones.”
As we climbed into bed, I couldn’t help but feel grateful for my parents’ help and the special bond they shared with our kids.
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This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author. The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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