Par-tay

Don't tell me about your crazy friday night plans. About how you're going to a party, or going to a game, or spending the night with a friend, or having a movie marathon... I don't want to hear about it. Been there, done that. Double yawn. Tonight, I went wild. Crazy. Off-the-charts insane.

My parents went out to dinner and left me and my three year old sister at home.

One word: Party

You haven't seen crazy till you let a pair of girls - both, some would argue, at ages that lend themselves to slight mental imbalance- loose in an empty house. The possibilities are endless, I tell you.

First thing we did was eat dinner. Lots and lots of dinner. Sisters don't make sisters eat all their broccoli, either, so I think she mostly ate pretzels. Lily's idea of a great night. Next we just ran around the house and made as much noise as possible. This requires top-notch agility, the ability to cut very close corners, a fabulous vertical leap, and a hard head for those times when the previously mentioned qualities fail you and you end up running into a wall. Or the couch. Or down the stairs... twice. (Don't worry, I caught her before she actually fell... both times.)

Once our throats were appropriately swollen from yelling, we went into "her" playroom.

Which I secretly love.

And might secretly refer to sometimes as "our" playroom.

And might secretly use without her knowing.

At any rate, she was highly impressed with my sliding (hey, those plastic jungle gym things are fun). We spent a half hour or so whizzing into an enormous pile of beanbags.

After that, I got down one of those... okay, I don't know the name of the game; it's one of those where you have the fan that looks like an elephant and it blows these little butterflies out of its trunk? You're supposed to catch them while they blow out gently and all that. Well we just took the trunk off. And blasted the butterflies everywhere. That was fun. And much quieter than our previous activities, believe it or not.

I think we watched some Backyardigans after that. I tried to convince her to watch What Not to Wear, and she just didn't go for it. After that she took a bubble bath, put on PJs, at some more pretzels, tricycle-d through the house, jammed to some KT Tunstall, read a book, and I tucked her in.

Sort of.

I can hear her jumping rather joyfully on the bed right now.

Do you think it was the british music or the pretzels?