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I finally found a way to keep my kids so busy, make them so exhausted, and have them so worn out with fun that they are literally begging to go to bed.

Yes! Begging to go to bed with moans of “I’m sooooo tired.”

Normally, my kids would choose death before ever admitting they were tired.

But there they were – 8ish on a still light summery night, heads hitting the pillow and not a peep. Not a sneak up to get another drink. No flashlights flashing signals down the hall. No walking past a bedroom door at 9:30 and finding a stuffed animal tea party in session. Snoring before I even left the room after hugs and kissies!

Thank you Challenger British soccer camp. Where can I send the fruit basket?

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Actually, the British already came, coached, and played my kids into the ground until they collapsed with dazed grins of soccer euphoria.

Today wrapped up the final day of the Challenger soccer camp with real, live coaches from Britain. Six young men and one woman with such delightful accents, I almost stuck around for five hours just to listen to them talk and be so adorable.

Actually (and I just said that in my head with a spot-on Manchester dialect), I worried the camp was a little long, but my soccer-rabid kids loved the extended camp. Even if they did look like wilted little flowers when I picked them up in the afternoon.

And I got sooooo much done – every errand on my list without having to ax from the bottom because the whining became too much to handle; exercise first thing in the morning – shower included!—without having to walk around all day in gym clothes hoping at some point I could squeeze it in; laundry done – and folded and put away!; creative dinners on time without quickie side dishes of applesauce or Jell-O.

I even had time to arrive early a few days to watch the kids play Austin Powers (When the coaches asked if the players were ready the kids answered, “Yeah, baby, yeah!”), and a daily World Cup competition complete with flag waving goal celebrations.

Okay, and listen to those cute Brits talk some more too.

I wish you could’ve seen the reaction from one mopped headed Englishman when I told him I had just seen David Beckham at Disneyland the week earlier. You would’ve thought I told him I just shook the hand of Jesus.

Once he composed himself and after breathlessly confirming how close I got, he asked, “‘ow far is Los Angel—ees from ‘ere? Do you think I’d catch sight of ‘im if I went down there? I’d really like to see a game of Galaxy football while I’m ‘ere.”

How’d I sound? Pretty spot-on imitation, wouldn’t ya say? Not bad, eh?

Hmm, I wonder if they still have room in next month’s camp…for the kids, of course!