MOVE OVER, FRANK LLOYD WRIGHT

After a recent trip to the zoo a couple of weeks ago, Chago decides to transform their old train track table into an exact -- EXACT, I TELL YOU -- replica of our visit.

See all the individual lego cages? And the polar bears up on rocks? And the giant penguin chasing the duck? And even the "coy" fish in the tin "pond" right in the middle? He's even using his vulture as a seagull stand-in because, God, they were just everywhere.

All he's really missing are the two 4-year-olds yanking on their Mommies arms because they're too tired to take another step and don't want to be big kids anymore if it means they have to walk the "WHOLE ENTIRE PARK!!!!"

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MY LITTLE LOVES

OH. MY. GOD. What a day! So, I'd managed to escape for 3 glorious years the headaches and stress that typically accompany children's party planning.

• Year 1: we flew to Texas and very thankfully let Tia Ruby and Tio Donny do most of the work.
• Year 2: we had a small intimate gathering at home -- and they were still too young to protest.
• Year 3: we actually did the Disneyland thang, but have not as yet fully recovered a year later.

But this year...this year Mama evidently lost her marbles completely and decided to throw a real-live party for 20 of their closest friends. [Cue the sympathy.]

LOCATION, LOCATION, LOCATION
So, just finding a place to have the party was a Herculean task in and of itself. With Mommy swearing she'd divorce me if we had it at home, I spent 4 weeks calling, visiting, and googling places that "just might work," assuming they could accommodate us, of course, because it was severely "frowned upon" by more than one party planner that we had not made our reservations 6-12 months prior. Can you believe that???!!! What is this, private school? The Ritz-Carlton? Tavern-on-the-Green?


But I finally found it. And it was perfect. It's a calmer, quieter, healthier, and less germ-infested environment than, oh let's say something that rhymes with Smuck B. Knees. Anyway, someone had backed out at the last minute, and as luck would have it, my little St. Patty's Day babies were even going to be able to have the party on the 17th!!! So, we booked it, bought all the appropriate packages and accoutrements, and headed off to Michael's to buy our invitations.

MARTHA STEWART, WE'RE NOT
But we were pretty damn close! With Amy and Chago scowling the whole time, Saia and I trotted around the store picking out confetti, ribbon, glitter pens, and mini-gift boxes. I printed their invitations, we stuffed them into the boxes, and hand delivered them to school the next day.

ENTER THE STEPFORD WIVES
Amy would have to fill you in completely on this one 'cause truly I was oblivious to most of it. Well, except for the "Do you always dress so glamorously for 4-year-old parties?" and "So, did you invite the whole school?" and "Well, lunch is included AND we get goodie bags?"

Not sure exactly what I did wrong here, but Amy says it has more to do with the mom's overterritorial, hypersensitivity, way-too-self-conscious of their post-baby bodies attitudes than with anything I may have actually said, done, or apparently, worn.

Whatever. That party was off the shizzle, baby!!! [I know, I know, I'm just never gonna be able to pull that off.]

ANYHOO, HERE'S THE PROOF IN THE PUDDING:

AH, YES, THAT AGE-OLD CLASSIC...THE SWORD IN THE PLANTER

SPATIAL AWARENESS 101

"But Mom, if that's his house..." she says with furrrowed brow and deeply concerned glare, "where does he keep all his toys?"

NO SUCH THING AS TOO LITERAL

"So then the elephant was chasing the leopard and trying to eat him!" he retells of his dream last night.

"But why was the elephant going to eat him?" I ask -- expecting an obvious answer, of course [when will I ever learn?].

"Well, he wasn't really, Mom. He was just telling stories," he explains. "Silly leopard," he laughs.

"Oh, so he was crying wolf?" I ask -- forever trying to squeeze in those lessons.

"No, Mom," he answers a little disappointedly, "he was crying LEOPARD." [as in...didn't we already cover this?]

TO ALL YOU BURGLARS OUT THERE...

"Let's go, kiddos, we're running late!" I say as I'm physically ushering them out onto the porch.

Usually, this is where I go back into the house, close the door behind me, set the alarm, and then rejoin them on the porch as the alarm sets. But as this happened to be a Saturday, and we don't always tend to set the alarm on the weekend if we're just running into the village for a quick errand or trying to meet up with Mommy for lunch, I was just trying to get us out the door and into the vehicle as quickly as possible.

However...

As we start our descent down the stairs, down the sidewalk, and over to the truck, all of a sudden (and yes, at the top of his lungs), my little man -- ever the vigilant protector -- decides to yell, "BUT MAMA, YOU FORGOT TO SET THE ALARM!!!!!"

Yes, well. There you go.

YES, WE FELT IT!!!

Around 8:40 tonight, right in the middle of the American Idol results show (thank you very much), the house started shaking. Jolting, really, in my very green opinion (as opposed to "rolling," whose difference only the locals are so keen on distiguishing).

But it literally took all of 3 seconds. The house creaked and moaned a little. My stomach jumped into my chest. We both sprang to our feet. The kids were still snoring soundly. Nothing even moved. The dogs didn't even bark.

The aftershock was like a 1.8 or something. Didn't even feel that one. But anyway...here's what it looked like from one of the national seismic associations.

From our perspective, though, all's well. Not to worry. :)