My daughter delivered four wild 9-year old boys with McDonalds Happy Meals at 1:30 p.m the other day.
We had two craft options. After loudly discussing the merits of each, they voted. They chose the hardest. With dread, Tom and I read the instructions. By then, the boys were in their swimming trunks and out the back door to the pool.
They swam, cannonballed, thrashed, splashed, and pushed each other into the pool for nearly 2 hours. Elaborate water tag rules were invented, bellowed, and disregarded. Tom, wise and silent like all good lifeguards, sat sentinel.
I tried to mind my own business, but had to announce our no hitting rule when Connor hit Blake over the head with a pool noodle. And when I heard Micah scream, I reminded Niko that the rubber Disney swords hurt when you slapped them onto someone's arm.
After swimming, they frosted and decorated cupcakes. I taught them the M&M technique: frost a cupcake and then immediately plunge the top into a bowl of mini M&M's. The result being an encrusted delight. They consumed ungodly amounts of sugar. What did I care?
They played hide and go seek out back, through the house, and out the front door. Eventually, they decided they were hungry again. This time they wanted hot dogs and french fries, which I dutifully made. They played video games, and only ate the french fries.
I was at the computer when all four marched in. Niko said "Grandma, can we jump on your bed?" I said, "No." Niko said, "Please?" I said, "No." Niko said, "Please, please, PLEASE?" I said "No."
"Awwww" he replied unhappily as they marched back out.