scenes from a playroom...

The playroom (which used to be called "the media room" and I always found that super obnoxious but for some reason we just couldn't seem to call it a "den") has become Scarlett's favorite place to play each night before bedtime. Mostly because that's where we take her each night before bedtime. She pretty much has no choice. This playroom has had many a facelift since her birth. In the beginning there were Baby Einstein entertainers in which she would jump and spin, blankets on the floor to protect her (from the carpet?) and various plush toys and play mats. We moved on to lots of rattles and squeaky toys and board books galore. We added a Leapfrog table. And two activity cubes. And a Fisher Price Laugh and Learn Home. And puzzles. And a Cookie Monster kitchen. And a big ole playhouse tent. You get the picture. While I do take the time to send the older toys to the "big closet" when adding new toys it's still a playroom chuck full of playthings.

Each night spent in the playroom is filled with laughter and tears. Fun and drama. Cheers and boo-boos. I have to admit, though, we have at least one good belly laugh each night.

Typical Playroom Scenarios...

Scarlett climbs onto the couch to point out ABC's on our Iwo Jima print and to bounce freely until we decide she has taken things too far and demand her descent.

Figaro (a two inch small Disney cat figure) goes missing. Normally he turns up under the couch (after we belly-crawl underneath the reclining footrest to rescue him) or crammed into the Cookie Monster kitchen food-catching basket. {He is currently M.I.A.}

The ABC puzzle is in high demand. We play with it together, she plays alone and then flings the little letters all over the room out of frustration. The puzzle is then gathered and put away but not without a lesson explained. 

Scarlett stands on anything and everything exclaiming, "I'm TALL!" (I haven't yet told her that she doesn't need to stand on anything, she is in fact very tall).

Wooden blocks are stacked up and demolished. As the tower gets higher with each block I hear, "Mama, I made!" to which I respond, "Oh my goodness, that's such a tall tower, great job!" over and over and over. Smile.

A request for bubbles is enthusiastically made. We give in and blow some bubbles all over the room. Sixty percent of the time Scarlett completely ignores them. The other forty percent is spent begging to "ho-it ho-it ho-it" (hold it - "it" being the bubble wand). She takes control of the wand, gets her hands as wet as possible, licks her fingers and is done.

We are very fortunate to have a spare room that Scarlett can utilize solely for play. Occasionally we watch a DVD, (A Charlie Brown Christmas was in heavy rotation for a few months) or play in her collapsible tunnel. We tumble around and run back and forth down the hall chasing each other. She basically owns the second floor of our house. She even has her own bathroom. I'll be sure to remind her of how grateful she should be for all of these things at every chance I get. She'll be sure to ignore me, figuring it out someday when she's in her thirties.