9:02 a.m. Truman wakes, paws at my face in delight.
9:03 a.m. I look over my shoulder at the window. Rain streams down and grey light fills the room.
9:12 a.m. I pull myself out of bed.
9:43 a.m. Diapers are changed, bananas are procured, shirts and pants and socks are located.
10:01 a.m. Coats are put on, bags are packed.
10:34 a.m. Truman is buckled into his seat, struggling.
10:38 a.m. Everett is convinced to stop "cleaning" the car with his coat sleeve and is buckled into his booster seat.
10:49 a.m. Their dad finally gets behind the wheel. We are on our way.
11:18 a.m. We drop daddy off at school. Kisses all around. "I want to go to my playdate 'til we're done dropping Daddy off!" says Everett.
11:21 a.m. We arrive at playdate.
11:22 a.m. I am amazed that, though we're nearly two hours late, eight moms and nearly a dozen kids (not counting ones inside bellies) are still hangin' in the large room11:24 a.m. Coats are off, Everett is already deep in toy acquisition mode, Truman happily crawls off into the fray.
11:27 a.m. I am amazed by the chaos.
11:28 a.m. I meet a mama I've only known via email, finally. I realize she's seven months pregnant, and CUTE.
11:34 a.m. I meet one of the new-to-our-group mamas.
11:36 a.m. Coffee. And... ummm... lemon tart. YUM.
11:37 a.m. Everett begins to whine. Already?
11:42 a.m. Shetha has her computer set up on a bar near the window. She's running some engineering test (working "from home" today).
11:45 a.m. I set my laptop up next to Shetha's.
11:48 a.m. I set Everett up on a bar chair nearby, with all the toys he's hoarded.
11:54 a.m. Everett needs me to help him build a "rocket ship" of pegs and wheels.
11:55 a.m. Everett needs me to help him re-build his rocket ship.
11:56 a.m. Everett needs me to help him re-re-build his rocket ship (this repeats seven times).
12:03 a.m. Shetha looks at the clock on her laptop. She has to go.
12:13 a.m. Another mama I've just met looks at her watch. Wow, it's late!
12:20 a.m. Someone calls me to take a picture. Truman has crawled under the bottom bar of the large table (it's less than a foot clearance, and about a foot wide).
12:34 a.m. Finally, mamas begin to pack up their bags, put away plates and coffee mugs, attempt to disengage toys from little hands.
12:36 p.m. I take a picture of the CUTE pregnant mama (there are two others, but this one has the prettiest scarf resting on her round belly).
12:37 p.m. Everett and Milo are both in tears over parts to his "rocket ship." Milo has the gall to call his part a "sun."
12:38 p.m. We separate the boys, who both are clutching their toys, sobbing. We explain that Milo is about to go.
12:39 p.m. Everett asks Milo, "Can you go now please?"
12:45 p.m. Milo goes. It's a struggle.
1:03 p.m. It's finally cleared out, but for Everett, Truman and I, and one other mama and her little girl.
1:14 p.m. Everett discovers that he can make the little girl - who he calls "kid" - laugh by pouring blocks and other small toys all over himself.
1:15 p.m. While screeching.
1:16 p.m. And making funny faces.
1:17 p.m. We both try to quiet him, wishing we could just sit there and laugh like the "kid."
1:20 p.m. Truman has made friends with a student who's looking at some anatomy book. She says he's not bothering her.
1:22 p.m. Truman, clearly in love, plays with the anatomy book. I decide that he IS bothering her.
1:30 p.m. The "kid" and her mama have to go.
1:35 p.m. The "kid" and her mama really have to go.
1:45 p.m. The "kid" and her mama really have to go, Everett still making funny faces, screeching, and pouring toys over himself.
1:47 p.m. Everett says he's hungry, so I take him to order food while the "kid"s mama cleans up Everett's mess.
1:57 p.m. The "kid" and her mama finally get out the door. Everett eats yogurt happily.
2:02 p.m. Everett's done, and he and Truman play quietly together for a few minutes.
2:11 p.m. We see a Volvo pull up outside the window. In it are two twin three-year-old boys.
2:14 p.m. The playdate starts again. And it's a story for another day.