This weekend has been somewhat of a more typical weekend. Most typically, it’s Sunday, and I have no recollection of what happened on Friday night. We did have a night on Friday, right?

Saturday, we attended a company picnic which turned out to be a very family-friendly, hugogenous shindigapalooza. There was a live band and 4-5 inflatable jumpers, midway games, dunk tanks, and volleyball nets. And lots of food. Anna and I were there early, because Anna really really really wanted to go. Jen and Tara joined us later and made the rounds showing off Tara. No one can resist Tara; you can practically hear the women ovulating as they walk by.

Jen took the girls home while I played a little volleyball; it was fun, even though it was utter jungle-ball, since I couldn’t dig up the regular players. After I got home a little later, Jen went out with M. and M. for a scrapbook-a-thon, which, since none of the three women are truly hard-core scrappers, I’m sure it was mostly a mom’s-night-out-a-thon. Good for them either way. The girls, for the most part, didn’t give me any trouble for the rest of the day, except for when I took Tara in the stroller and Anna on her bike for a trip around the block. Anna was getting scared at just about everything she passed by: bees in the bushes, the neighbor’s lawnmower, the slope of the driveways. With each threat, she jammed on the brakes, dismounted her bike, ran around, wailed, pushed her bike a few feet, ran around and wailed again. Finally I told her it was time to turn around and go home. As she no longer wanted to ride her bike, I told her that I was not going to bring her bike home for her; if she couldn’t ride or push the bike the 150 feet back to the house, she would lose it forever and I would put it in the shed until Tara was ready for it. At this point she had already been making a scene; at my ultimatum, she raised her game to academy-award level. Despite her theatrics, I remained completely calm as I pushed the stroller back to the house, while Anna trailed behind me in tears, alternately pushing her bike and striking a dramatic pose, prone behind her bike.

She finally got it back into the garage, and I sent her to her room until she settled down; about ten minutes later she emerged and I told her that no more whining would be tolerated for the evening. Within a couple minutes she sarted whining, and was sent back to her room for another ten minutes. The rest of the evening was whine-free, and both girls were easy to handle.