When my friend called a couple weeks ago asking how he could childproof his home to protect it from my 4-year-old, my first thought was, "She IS housebroken, you know."

Bwahahahaha!!!

Housebroken is such a relative term, isn't it?

I was pretty sure I could count on my daughter to not go potty on the floor, but beyond that, I wasn't sure what I could promise, knowing that there would be a few other kids her age there. At house parties, a gang of small children can be more terrifying than a gang of teenagers.

The party was a case in point: The older kids hung out around the Wii. The younger kids became fast friends, and by fast, I mean racing around the house fast.

As a seasoned parent, I don't mind chaos, but I also don't mind leaving it behind to go spend some civilized time with my peers. In general, that means that I keep my family life and my social life separate, except on those occasions when the adults are doing something the kids would enjoy.

One thing I know kids don't enjoy is sitting around quietly while their parents talk to other adults, so it was with great trepidation that I accepted this invitation to our childless friends' home on behalf of myself and my two children.

But our hosts were prepared. They had plenty of kid-friendly food, video games and board games, a box of action figures, and adults to dote over the little angels and whisk away breakables when the need arose.

One of the notable things about the smaller set, though, is that while older people tend to wind down over time, kids — especially those who have been allowed more than the usual allotment of sugary snacks — wind up.

It's unsettling, literally. When you arrive, you hope that your children will find playmates. If they do, there's an immense sense of relief as they entertain each other, giving parents a chance to socialize with their own kind. But while their parents are talking, the kids are talking, too. They're inventing new games and one-upping each other.

Before you know it, naked G.I. Joes are all over the floor, Monopoly money is flying through the air and hysterical laughter is drowning out all other conversation. The kids never seem to understand why this means the party is over. For them, it's just getting under way.

As we drove home afterward, my 12-year-old — who was tasked with redressing the action figures and helping get his sister out the door — noted astutely that little kids party too hearty.

His sister wasn't offended. She passed out in her car seat within five minutes of getting into the car.

When she's not being a reporter, Treena Shapiro is busy with her real job, raising a son and daughter. Check out her blog at www.HonoluluAdvertiser.com/Blogs