I Could've Been Playing Barbies

That's what I always say when Coleman wants to play some potentially harmful or weird game. I loved Barbies as a child, and always dreamed I would play them with my daughter some day. Instead I'm playing some altered form of football where tennis shoes are worn like gloves on the hands. I think I've figured out the rule: Do whatever Coleman tells you. So far the commands have been, "Mommy throw me the ball. Mommy throw it high. Mommy go get it." I guess it is hard to pick up a football with shoes on your hands. As much as I loved Barbies and wanted to have an excuse to play with them as a grown-up, I wouldn't trade my boys for anything. Even if it means having the trash can emptied on the floor so it can be used as a drum, lining 63 cars up around the edge of the coffee table, wondering how long it is before they try to fly off the top of the stairs, or watching the rescue vehicle DVD with that cheesy guy 3 days in a row. I've just been informed that it's time to go play cars. I can't think of anything I'd rather be doing!