Is Playing With a Hairball a Sign?

That we should think about taking our kids home to their basement playroom full of toys?

Or that we should think about getting a pet?*

The kids have far exceeded my expectations for three months in a very small apartment with only a few borrowed toys. No one has died, although I have locked myself in the bathroom a couple of times, and not just with my cakester stash. They make up imaginary games with cups, they play birthday party with empty bottles, they play with each other, they jump on the mattress and make sheet forts in the closet. My grumpiness over the level of my participation that is sometimes required to keep things running smoothly (which really isn't any different than in the basement full of toys) aside, I have been astounded by the power of their imaginative play and how few toys they actually need.

It pays to check frequently though, when three children are quiet for an hour in a nearly empty apartment.

I shed hair like a molting alpaca. I have long, dark hair and at the rate it falls out you'd think I would be bald. Like tomorrow. The back bedroom where the kids sleep has a ceiling fan that somehow creates a floor current in the apartment. It's a floor riptide. Cue can get caught in this thing and I'm like don't fight the current, swim to the sides, little man.

All my hair and other assorted dusty ball things collect in this one corner of the back bedroom in a ceiling fan air eddy. I usually beat the little furry beast into submission and throw it away each morning, but I guess yesterday I forgot because after almost an hour of quiet play, it occurred to me to be suspicious and I went in to see what was keeping them so busy.

My three babies were gathered around the hamster-sized hairball in the corner. There was deep discussion and possibly some petting and cooing. They informed me that the hair hamster wanted to have snack and watch a movie. I give them top marks for creativity, but if they start coughing up baby hamster hair balls, I'm taking them all to the pound. Along the same lines, if they even tell me they are bored in the first three weeks that they are reunited with their basement-o-toys, I'm giving everything to goodwill and bringing them my hairbrush to play with.

*No, Matt, that is not an indication of weakness. I am not getting a puppy this year. We don't need one. They shed. I'm the shedder in this house. They pee and poop on the hardwoods. We have only just, miraculously, convinced our three-year-olds not to do this. (Seriously, Gee has been completely accident free for WEEKS. He gets up at night on his own and pees in the toilet, it's fabulous. If anyone knows how to teach him that he cannot pee straight up into the air like a freaking little marble cherub in an Italian piazza anytime he has to sit down and poop, please, please enlighten me.) If you miss it, don't despair, we're adding another little hardwood destroyer to the clan in July.

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Trivia tribulations. So, last time around, I took answers by email, because, some people have to work in this world, doing wonderful things like educating our children and they can't open blogs during the work day. But, last time around it was just a silly game and this time I really do have something incredible to give the trivia champion. Regretfully, I'm going to say that all answers have to be in the comments...that way everyone will know I'm not cheating...especially when the emails come from bloggers I would cheat for in a heartbeat. If I were the cheating type. Which I am not. Temptation removed! Now could someone please come and confiscate my cakesters.