It's been awhile. For a myriad of reasons, there has not been a couples' night out in six months. I regret that. But it happened last week and was as fun as I remember. Thirty five little kids rode scooters and climbed the jungle gym, ate noodles and watched a movie. A dozen teenagers showed up to play basketball with them, and push them on riding toys. Ten actual grown ups kept the whole ordeal from sliding into chaos. 

I love spying on siblings with their arms around each other watching superheroes. Seeing an adult read quietly to one child on the couch makes me smile. A whole pack of kids sprawled out on the floor like puppies is adorable. But there is something less obvious that puts a lump in my throat. 

It happens without fanfare. A slightly older kid will lean in to listen to a curly headed child. A teenage girl will hoist a toddler on her hip. Two big guys will shepherd a four year old boy through the line for cupcakes. Three middle school girls play hide and go seek with a preschooler in a gym with nowhere to hide. 

A hundred years ago twelve year old kids were an essential part of society. They milked the cows, weeded the garden, collected eggs. They worked hard, and the family ate. These days the most essential task many kids do around the house in my neighborhood is to take out the trash. And if they forget, Mom does it.  Their contribution is non essential and they know it. 

At couples' night out, the teens are the heavy lifters. They hustle to scoop spaghetti onto paper plates, and wipe up spills. They scramble across the monkey bars to make the toddlers squeal. They turn plastic riding toys into blasting bikes.

They show small children what it looks like to be kind.