The day we got the tent

Every month, I learn more and more about how little boys come from a different universe than little girls. Noah, for instance, often resembles a Tasmanian devil, leaving a swath of ripped books, scratched and dented blocks and general mayhem in his wake.

For that reason, I always chuckle when I receive hand-me-town toys and books from my colleague, Amy. She has a daughter, Megan, who obviously treated all her things with great care. I have yet to see a single bent page or a loose thread on her cherished childhood treasures.

Therefore, it was no surprise to me when Amy brought in a play tent to work last week that it was in fantastic shape, despite the years of use she said it received. I knew instantly that Noah would love it (thanks to a quick visit to the Doucette family vacation tent) and that he would give that treasured tent a run for its money.

The tent has been front and center all weekend long. It was a perfect timing, actually, given the uncharacteristic onslaught of rain we've been burdened with recently.

Noah asks to get in as soon as he wakes up in the morning, and the first person he wants to join him is Daddy. What comes out of his mouth is a frantic and excited: "Doyouwannacomeindatentwifme... Daaadddyyy?!!" And David always obliges.

We've seen the tent scoot across our crumb-coated floors choo-choo style, and we've watched it collapse under the weight of Noah's constant leaning at least 20 times. One morning we played a rousing game of launching things off the nylon top. That was worth a million giggles and resulted in a room full of discarded UFOs. Every flap has been lifted and shut, peek-a-booed and tied back, and the circle entry has been spun and spun and spun.

The tent is cool, no doubt about it. Thank you, Amy, Megan and Joe, for yet another winner!