This weekend's agenda involved taking the four youngest brothers-in-law (ages 11 to 17) to a baseball game and then having them spend the night, returning them at church the next day.

It was fun. It was crazy. There were moments when I wondered if I really wanted ten kids. But everything went quite well, and so far I haven't found anything broken. There was the little incident when one was washing up plastic baggies while the other one dried, and he mischievously placed a baggie loaded with dirty dishwater in the drain. The other one retaliated by dumping it in the sink. He did wipe up the resulting explosion.

There was also the incident with the oatmeal, but I suppose I can't really blame it on them. I was explaining the functioning of a catapult to one when DOB tried to bluff me on whether I would actually launch the catapult. So I did. On his face. And all over his church clothes. It was time to wash his glasses anyway.

And now everyone has left and things are very, very quiet. Ten kids would be fine. But I hope that by the time our oldest son is 10 we have a house with a barn. Boys need somewhere to go and be boys without driving their mother bonkers.