Years ago it was popular to play laser tag.  I have no idea if it is still popular now, but fifteen years ago you could buy laser tag sets at the toy stores.  It was comprised of a “laser” gun and a chest shield.  I never understood how it worked, but if you hit the target of the other guy’s chest shield with your laser beam, it would make a noise and you’d know he was “hit.”  This all involved a lot of red lights blinking and lots of noise.  The general sound was very outer spacey, and it was fun and funny to play.  We somehow ended up with five of them, so one night Al and I decided to play with the boys.  Us against them.  The lights in the house went dark and it was on.  George the Dog was young and he was in the fray, lots of running back and forth, hiding behind doors, jumping out at each other, Al and I laughing like children as we tried to escape the tribe that outnumbered us. 

Suddenly Al and I found ourselves in the living room, alone.  The boys were upstairs planning their attack, we could hear them up there, whispering how they would ambush us.  Al grabbed me and we started to kiss as if we were oblivious to their sneaking down the hallway, and with great enthusiasm they finished us off.

I remember that night fondly, because raising children can so often get bogged down by duty and the heaviness of being a parent – do the homework, put the shoes on, tidy the room, help in the kitchen, for God’s sake be quiet for five minutes.  I remember feeling very warm and wonderful that night, kissing my husband in the dark living room, having our kids witness it, letting them “win” against us – I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect antidote to the stresses of those years.  I always wanted to play again, but it never did happen a second time.  The laser tag components were loaned out and not returned, we never replaced them, the time for such play melted into the past.   It was just one of those spontaneous  evenings that made being the Mom worth it, now that I look back.