War Zone

My family room looks like a war zone right now.
Toys are all over the place–but the chaos is strangely organized.
Yesterday afternoon there were five children in my house, ranging from 3 to 13, ALL engaged TOGETHER in a strategic plan to turn the family room into a battlefield. There’s a map drawn by Middle Sister who misspelled her friend’s name (and it’s only 4 letters long) but correctly inscribed “BLITZKRIEG” in a different spot. I suspect that Big Brother, who shares Big Daddy’s keen interest in all things World War II, had something to do with that.
There are tiny little army guys, something that Little Brother insists are “shotguns” but are probably supposed to be cannons, miniature battleships, teeny warplanes and the odd helicopter.
Everyone was reasonably quiet, and no one was fighting.
The game was abandoned early, when the kids heard another neighbor family come outside to play after they finished dinner. Everyone immediately congregated in that yard (Big Brother in head-to-toe camouflage) to play the traditional game of “Infiltrators.”
This game is fun for all ages. The Big Kids try to climb over the back fence into the neighbors’ yard without being detected by the Little Kids (anyone under 6). When the Little Kids to spot them, they begin chasing the Big Kids around the yard, shrieking “Infiltrators!” The object of the game is to capture the Infiltrators and incarcerate them in the neighbors’ Little Tykes Barbie Play House. They can play this game for hours. Ours is probably the only neighborhood with a child under two whose vocabulary includes the word “infiltrators.”

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