Dear Supervised PlayRoom Inventor,

Reposted from sometime last spring.......

I love you.

Really.

Do you realize what you have done for me?

You have made it possible for me to drop my child off in a colorful, toy filled room at the front of my favorite super store for one hour of uninterrupted time "one-stop shopping". I know that the big-wigs think that they have made a smart move by offering this service in hopes that I will be more relaxed while shopping and in turn fill my cart with beautiful and lovely things that I don't need. However, I am smarter than those big-wigs and sometimes, after I place my four year old in the loving hands of that employee (who, by the way, knows us by first name and NEVER matches up our security band numbers when I come to claim him), I simply head over to the in-store coffee stand, purchase my overpriced, overly sweetened, overly fattening drink and head to the magazine aisle, where I pick a few of my favorite brain stimulating periodicals like People and US Weekly and then I go sit on the floor sample couches and read for THE ENTIRE HOUR! I certainly never get one hour of uninterrupted periodical perusing time at my house. Except for that one time I locked my self in my bathroom with the fan on and the shower running and sat, fully clothed, on the porcelain throne. Even then the natives were pounding down the door every ten minutes wanting fruit snacks.

Then there is the gym and again I declare you genius. While certainly not free, it is well worth the expense. You see, my children beg to go there. Daily. There I get one and a half hours of child free time. Yes, I know the purpose of this playroom is to entertain my children in order that I may get my tush onto one or more of those sweat inducing machines in the other room. And most of the time I do. However, I must confess that, once in a while, I place my children in the care of those perky high-school girls and I go sit in the whirlpool spa in the ladies locker room. Yes, I am usually the youngest, least wrinkled lady in there. But damn, I look goooooooood in a bathing suit next to those ladies.

Let us not forget the favorite Supervised PlayRoom of all time. This one has a great name. It is called Smal Land, yes with just one 'L' because it is Swedish. And those Swedes love my children and me so much that they too have made it possible for me to wander their mega store for one hour unencumbered by offspring. What they don't realize is that I almost never grab one of their paper tape measures, pencils, or giant yellow shopping bag. Instead I walk through their rat-like maze, straight for their 325 sq. ft. model home. There I seat myself on the lovely, cherry red striped ektorp chair, pull out my cell phone, call my sister Kris and enjoy a peaceful phone conversation for once. Oh, and sometimes I go to their brightly lit cafeteria and buy me some meatballs with gravy and lingonberry sauce. I love not sharing my meatballs.

So to you, Mr (or Miss) Supervise Playroom Inventor, I tip my hat and in the words of Budweiser I call you my "real man of genius".

What you don't realize is that I am the "real mom of genius" and have figured out how to use all three Supervised PlayRooms in one day. Can you say THREE AND A HALF HOURS of alone time without having to pay a single babysitter!

With much admiration of your ingenuity and mine,

The mom