The last Playdate always comes and goes with all the feels. Some of these kiddos I won't see again until the Gingerbread Party, and when next summer roles around, changes will come and a large percentage of Playdaters will outgrow the kind of playdates that I provide. Next year will be Year 20 and will probably be the summer I hang up my Playdate hat-bittersweet.
Yesterday was the Fairy Ball/Renaissance date. You can see from the pictures that it didn't stir a lot of dress-up interest anymore. Gideon helped out by bringing bows and arrows and a target for axe throwing. All the boys worked on a hot fire to do some forging.
Annabelle brought her best bud Audrey for some face painting.
We had a big feast of turkey, rack of lamb, potatoes, green beans, salad, fruit, cookies and of course, bread and cinnamon rolls.
Rae and Aunt Tish helped me provide a Flower Bar, where they created beautiful arrangements.
One way that doesn't seem to change with the ages is when the story blanket rolls out. Everyone washes up from the hose with orange Dial soap and heads for the snacks. Today included some snacks with a renaissance flair.
Unusual, was a personal story from me and a prayer, sharing with them how we came to live in this Ol' TumbleDown Farmhouse. A conversation about gratefulness. A couple of these faithful playdaters call me Gramerly, but they have a Mimi and Pa who moved just down the road a half a block, years and years ago. Their Mimi called to tell me this house was for sale. Time was coming for my oldest to go to school. We lived in town and I was fretting mightily and praying pitifully because my boy was quite small and for the life of me I could not picture putting him on a giant bus with giant high school people. I knew we couldn't afford this house, but came to look anyway and lo and behold it was in the front yard of the elementary school, same one I attended. Handy Man's mom came to rescue to help us make it happen and from kindergarten till 6th grade, my littles didn't have to ride a bus. My kids, and Mimi and Pap's had playdates and gingerbread parties together for years until they moved to Corydon. Their eldest then returned to Playdates with the next generation. I told them how grateful I was for such an answer to prayer, how grateful to God I am for 19 years of just play, and never an emergency room visit. Grateful that they've learned to play during the hottest summers, wettest summers and coolest playdates. We never called it off. They've pictured grief up close when I lost my sister the morning of one Playdate and my nephew on another. They know about creek life and aren't so squeamish as many children I teach. They found keeping paint on paper less appealing than painting your whole self. Complete immersion in mud was a thrill. They marveled at tiniest bluebirds and big snakes, and always chickens. It would take me all day to share all the experiences we've had. I told them how much I loved them, and always would.
In keeping with the theme, I read the much favored When the Root Children Wake Up and added a new one The Ink Garden, about a brother in a monastery who grew a garden to create beautiful illuminated letters. We then went to pick aronia berries. They make beautiful purple ink (and I needed them picked, ahem).
Pen and paper were supplied for those who wished to script.
Gee, the talent.
After story and snack and all the festivities, it was time to head to the creek.
My hat is off to these ladies ( Ol' Mother Hubbard hadn't yet arrived) who've weathered the weather with me, and joined in all kinds of craziness, but mostly allowing their kids to play in a hundred ways.
And I must include in my gratefulness for a Handy Man who's been asked to do a million behind the scenes activities, for what reason was beyond his reckoning. He's tolerated dozens of lost and broken tools, found too many things while mowing that shouldn't be there, and a yard that often looks like a severe storm broke out while he was at work, though at work the sun never stopped shining. He accepted that he needs to show me a stick before he tosses it, cause we might need it for Playdate.
Me and Playdate equal a big ton of messes. Looking back- not sorry, just grateful.
