The kids' school organized a walkathon this week to raise money for new playground equipment. For some reason, I could totally get behind this particular fund-raiser, whereas I normally find every excuse to miss things like Junk-Food Bingo! and Fiesta Night!

I guess I'm not very civic-minded, or maybe it is my delicate constitution, but let me just say this in my defense: I loathe Bingo since I've never figured out a way to win, and taking 500+ families and unleasing them into the multipurpose room and handing them paper plates full of enchiladas and tacos maxes out my sonic registers and leaves me wishing I had earplugs. And maybe blinders. And also a leash on my kids.

Anyway, the walkathon was outdoors, during the normal school day, and I could technically volunteer to help out, or just show up and walk with the kids, and there was no pressure to sell! sell! sell!

So while I signed the forms saying I was available to help set up or whatever, they never called me (my reputation precedes me, muwahahaha) and instead, I packed up some extra sunblock, a blanket to sit on, my little umbrella to protect my lily-white hide and headed to the school with my five-year-old sidekick.

We was fixin' to get our walk on.

As an aside, having my youngest be a five-year-old now? It rocks. She's more chatty, but she actually has reasoned thought and conversational skills. She also is like one of those crazy dolls that you pull the cord in the back and they spew out random phrases. She's like "The other day, I saw a bird. It flew up into the clouds and then the angels told it to go back to earth because the trees needed it to poop." Five minutes later, she shared another great thought: "The machine that puts the ice cream in the middle is called an extruder."

I predict greatness.

So, after chatting up some of my friends and accusing them of having more of a life than I have, we ended up in a sort of "yo mama is so uglyesque" smackdown over who had less of a social life. We determined that our pets have more of a social life than any of us and the next PFA meeting? We're all telling our spouses we're going to the meeting, and instead we're going to a bar.

And I just typed "barf" instead of "bar." You can predict the outcome of that little plan.

The stage was set with those sunshade tent things ringing the blacktop, and cones setting the walking path for the laps. At the appointed time, the kids came marching under a balloon arch holding signs with healthy ideas like "Drink Water!" and "Recycle!" and "Sleep!"

I like all of those and I'm adopting them for personal slogans. After the first go-round, the signs were gone, but the kids chugged on.

My eight-year-old snagged my five-year-old, and when I saw them again, all three of my children were holding hands and walking together. I didn't manage to get a photo of that, but here they are, looking happy to be together.

Aw, so nice!

About two or three more laps, and my girls disappeared to get their faces painted while I stood stupidly on the sidelines eating orange slices intended for the kids and waiting for my kids to come around. Next to where I was standing, there were three police officers, congratulating the kids as they made their way around. I thought that was what they were doing, when actually, it went something like this:

"Hey, son! You're doing great, but your shirt is untucked in the back!"
"Hey, your hat is on crooked!"
"Your ponytail is coming loose!"
"Watch out there, your shoe is untied!"

It was THE FASHION POLICE. In uniform and everything. I was the only one who thought this observation was funny.

Thirteen laps into the afternoon, my son called it quits and decided to play with his sister on the play equipment.

Proof that you can dress 'em up, but you can't take 'em out. Also that 'Circus' isn't just a metaphor.

Aw, so sweet.

Meanwhile my oldest was chugging her way around a few more laps, and dumped a water bottle over her head, resulting in a really unfortunate drowned-rat look. I'm not posting the photos here, because she's almost as tall as me now and could deck me. I didn't ask her what the cops had to say about her "wet" look.

All in all, a good time for the whole family. Especially for my husband who pledged money by the lap and got off light, big time.

The real story? Involved crazy eyes.