I would like a playpen just for me. Not to contain me, but to keep them out. Here's what happened. The kids and I were having lunch outside. I served their food and they sat happily at their adorable kid-sized picnic table. Then I came out with my plate, sat at the patio table which is all of 9 feet away from the kids, and they immediately descended upon me. The girls were oohing and aahing my plate, even reaching for items off it, while Wolfie decided at that precise moment he needed to tell me an interesting fact about whales while standing a half inch from my face.
Yes, they love me to pieces and I them, but let me be when I want to eat!
So I shooed them away and had this sci-fi thought that I could really use some sort of force field right about now. But then I thought of it - a Mama playpen. I'd pop it up around me and I would be able to eat in peace. I mean, they would still talk to me non-stop but I wouldn't have to swat any little hands away from my plate or politely reject an offering of a half-eaten carrot. "No thank you, just put it back on your plate. You're so nice for sharing, though." I know, I know, they would just throw their food at me, but that's the price you pay for being in a cage and if I choose it, if it's voluntary, I can handle ducking every now and then as a trade off for not having a child with a wet bathing suit insist that she sit in my lap while I'm typing on my laptop. Or the are-you-kidding-me arm grab while I'm painting my toenails.
No wonder my mother (and all of your mothers too) sent you outside to play in the fenced in backyard and then locked the screen door. Sure, if there was a real emergency, you could yell for her attention. But for the most part, you were on your own. My mother wasn't locking me out, making the backyard my playground. She was locking herself in. And so what if it's because she wanted to vacuum and dust. It's what she wanted to do and she wanted to do it without me underfoot.
Yes. A Mama playpen. I'm taking orders now. Who would like one?