Pat pretty much had them behaving like finely trained circus performers by the end of the day. My favorite "trick" was getting them lined up on the side of the pool and having them jump in holding hands. It was cute watching them try to work as a team to time the coordination of the jump.
Visually, the best stunt was probably getting them to go down the slide and land in the middle of the inner tube, but I prefer these jumping pictures.
The best thing about the party, though, is that my house is spotless! My approach to housecleaning is to attack chores on an as-needed basis. I don't vacuum on Mondays. I vacuum when it needs to be done, and if that means the kitchen gets hit daily and the bedrooms get bi-weekly attention, then I am fine with that. The consequence of this cleaning approach is that the house is rarely in a pristine state all at the same time. The exception is when we have people over.
Even though no one really came into the house I felt obliged to do the full treatment. Toilets, counters, floors, sinks everybody got put to work and everything got cleaned. In addition to being clean, there was not a speck of clutter anywhere. No magazines laying about, no backpacks by the door, nada! Perfection.
There was really no mess to clean up after the party, either. So I had a glass of wine, hung out with Pat, watched Michael Phelps make history, and savored the nirvana that is utter and complete cleanliness. It was just about the perfect Saturday night.
Is it weird that this makes me so happy?! Does it mean that I am old when a clean house and an evening plopped in front of the TV constitutes a great Saturday night?! These are rhetorical questions. Please, don't answer.