The Kids' Stuff

When we first moved into our house we immediately decided to give the kids the basement as “their space.”

We high-fived, renovated, threw shelves and cool shit down there, popped-in a couple space heaters, and dreamed the high-life dream of kids playing gleefully in the basement while we sipped wine, watched adult shows and chased each other around the house with sex toys.

Ok…that last part was only in my high-life dream…but regardless, we dreamt.

Then reality hit.

The girl….loves playing by herself. Dollies, house, school, and her favorite game “my brother’s evil and let’s plot to kill him.”

The boy? Well, he basically hates to be alone. NEVER wants to play alone, and ALWAYS wants to be involved in anything happening within a 50-yard radius.

So throwing him in the basement to play army, Legos, or whatever little dudes do these days is NEVER going to happen. He won’t do it.

Then, to make matters worse, we had a tween come visit us this summer from North Carolina. Basements are a rare thing in the south so when she was confronted with our decked-out underground awesomeness, all she saw was a dark, cold, dungeon of terror.

And she made it known. She refused to go down there unless all the lights were on and an adult was with her.

Ever since then…our kids feel the same way.

As a result, the adult space has become romper-room. Dollies, stuffed animals, plastic frogs and insects, Play-Doh, and little itty-bitty microscopic toys that can only be found by stepping on them with your bare feet at 4 a.m. have now entered into the adult “love palace.”

The daughter wins the biggest prize for being the most obnoxious about it. She brings arm-loads at a time of stuffed animals, dolly houses, and hooker boots to “our” area.

So, I guess the purpose of this post is to say, I miss you adult space.

I miss the gap in time when the Mrs. and I could have spontaneous sex once a year, throwing clothes to and fro without them landing on a fake full-sized cat causing it to meow and purr.

I miss watching watching “Cops” and yelling “get the fucker!!!!” without little ears and eyes being present.

I miss coming home from work and seeing a clean, relaxed space child-free of Barbie houses and army men.

But I know it’s a phase. And…I focus on the positive. Maybe now is the time I put the pool table and bar in the basement and shove all the kids’ shit into their rooms?

I mean…they do have light up there…& a boogie man’s never been sighted there! At least not yet…