We had a good-size crowd together this week. Three out-of-town grands and six grands who live in town, met up for three consecutive days. We rotated from house to house to house so that no one house would be singled out as a disaster area.

Due to the size, volume and rapid movement of the group, my intelligence gathering is often limited to random conversation bits floating above the crowd or one-on-one exchanges in the car.

In the car: “Grandma, it’s easier to leave your house faster than ours because you don’t have to put up the dogs. If we don’t put them up, they eat all the food.”

“You mean they eat all the dog food?”

“No, they eat apples, avocados and bananas. Our lab can peel a banana!”

Note to self: Remember that the next time they offer you a banana.

Overheard: Nine cousins are about to eat lunch, then go to a neighborhood pool. A 7-year-old prays before lunch: “Dear God, thank you for this day and this food and please let us be the only kids at the pool.”

In the car: “Grandma, what does ‘occupado’ mean?”

“It’s Spanish for occupied. Sometimes you see it in English and Spanish on restroom doors like on planes. Why?”

“It’s what my dad says when he’s in the bathroom and the door is closed.”

Overheard: Three of the nine kids heading to a creek stomp did not bring boots. One of the kids yells, “Well, you can go barefoot in the creek, can’t you?”

“Mom says we’re not allowed to,” comes the answer.

Then another says, “Yeah, but Dad lets us!”

Overheard at the creek: A country cousin says to a city cousin, “I can bring frog eggs next time I come so you can catch frogs.”

Two of the older cousins, not present because they are at a church camp in Louisiana, send a text: “We took a boat ride on a river and saw an alligator. Did you know if you take a selfie with an alligator, you only have a 50% chance of survival?”

Nobody wants to ask which side of 50 they think they are in.

Early morning in the kitchen: Standing in front of the freezer compartment of the refrigerator, juggling ice cream bars, fruit pops and ice cream sandwiches to get at some ice, a small voice behind me says, “If you’re trying to clear that out, I can help by eating some for you.”

They’re all gone now -- the kids, the dirt, the crud on the countertops, the wet swimsuits, water blasters, flip flops, soggy towels, butterfly nets and every last grass clipping stuck to the tub.

Like summer itself, time is passing all too quickly.

By the way, there were no other kids at the pool that day.

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