I adore raising my kids as gym rats. When we are at the basketball games at my old high school, I never have to worry about where they are. Mostly, they are sitting right by me, but if they aren't, I can look to any part of the gym and know who they are with.
To my right, in the parent's section, they can sit with 2 aunties, their papa and their mema (who buy the kids' term life insurance quotes, 2 uncles and a miriad of cousins. To the left, they can sit with their buddies from preschool, their 2 year old class teacher and her family, or my godparents and their kids and grandkids. Across the gym from me, in the student section, they sit with their high school aged cousins and all of their friends. And kitty corner from me, across the gym, there is the elementary school counselor and her husband, and another uncle and his friends. At each entrance there is a trusted adult, just in case one of them heads to the snack bar or the restroom.
But instead of wandering and socializing, they mostly watch the game. Ivy cracks me up with her expressions and her anger at the refs. Bec is always saying, "Are we the winners? Are we lost-ing? Mama, tell me the points." And Hendrix is just passed around to many laps and tons of kisses.
This is exactly how I wanted to raise my babies. It always warms my heart.