The Happiest Place on Earth, Explained

I recently wrote about the only place in London where people actually smile at me, and a few days later realized why this is.  It's because of the kids.

Our house faces the street.  We have the top two floors of a three story Victorian townhouse.  With its 12-foot ceilings, ornate plasterwork and finicky plumbing, it's quite a grand place in a shabby chic sort of way.  A feature of these townhouses is a bay window in front.  Or maybe it's a bow window. I don't know, anyway, it's three windows which stick out of the front of the house, affording a 270 degree view.  And from this window, on most mornings, Caroline and Michael wave and blow kisses and make faces at me for as long as they can as I walk to the tube station.  If I stretch my neck right as I start along the footpath I mentioned earlier, I can just see them between two branches of the tree in front of the house, still waving madly.  This, of course, makes me smile, which apparently causes others on the path to smile back.  Hm.  I may be on to something here.

Speaking of children, one thing I always tell those who are about to have kids is that the first few years are really hard, but it gets easier and more rewarding as time goes by.  Yesterday, we reached another milestone in the children's development - the Children's Table.  We went to see a play (Chitty Chitty Bang Bang at the New Wimbledon Theatre - it was surprisingly well done, and I highly recommend it as a day out with kids in London) with three other families and afterwards, out to a very noisy Italian restaurant for dinner.

There were 16 of us - 8 adults and 8 children.  The restaurant couldn't fit us all at one table, so they laid two tables for 8 each.  The kids gravitated to one and the adults to the other.  I expected disaster as the children at the kids table ranged from 4 to 8, but it all went surprisingly well.  The kids had a great time doing kid stuff without adult intervention, and the grownups were able to actually carry on a conversation without constantly interrupting themselves to stop the kids blowing bubbles in their drinks.
Caroline got into a tiff with her friends over something (hopefully not a boy, but she won't tell us...) and spent the last half hour or so sulking in the corner, but otherwise it was a fine evening.  Friends with young children, take heart!  You too will soon have a peaceful meal!

I have to say, though, that these rites of passage are bittersweet.  The fact that the kids can order their own food and fend for themselves at the dinner table is gratifying in that it allows me to commune with other adults, but it also means that the children are growing up and acquiring the skills that will make them fully independent at some point in the not too distant future.  When they were babies, I wished they'd just grow UP already, but now they aren't and I wish they'd just STOP growing UP already.  Ah, well, as long as they keep making faces at the window, it's all OK.