This past weekend they let the Momma Pig out of the Pen (so to speak) to attend a wedding.

It was, I’ll be honest, exhilarating, to be surrounded by so many grown ups and to set the baby talk aside for a while. (August, I love you, but I can use a break from “Song of the Piglet” every now and again as I’m sure you can, too.)

What a thrill to mingle among adults. We spoke of careers and alma maters and sports. We filled our bellies with wedding cake and raspberries. We drank drinks. We danced to LOUD music played by a band with a BRASS section. We wore party dresses and high heels and — gasp! — mascara. The Champagne flowed and the men wore black tie. Wheee!

And then before you could say, “Cinderella,” the clock struck 11.55 and away we dashed into the night in our pumpkin taxi. We hurtled across the park, gallop, gallop, gallop lurching to a stop at No. 108 and bursting through the front door at the promised 12.15 a.m.

Goodbye babysitter. Hello Kid-Ville. It was fun while it lasted.

Tags: Mother