I’m sitting outside your bedroom door. I hear you two. I hear your breathlessness as the bedsprings creak under the weight of your continuous jumping. I hear pages being ripped from our favorite books. I hear a loud bang, but since there is no screaming, I don’t rush in – your tough little asses are just fine. I hear the giggles and the shrieks of joy. I consider all the objects that might have caused that bang, and decide it was the humidifier. I KNOW what is going on in there, and I have something to tell you…
You think you are so silly, so sly. You know you are mischievous even though you are ignorant to the etymology of the word – I see the glimmer of pride in those beautiful blue eyes when you are caught in the act. Every damn time.
Let me tell you some things you don’t know…
I have plenty of towels to soak up the basketball-sized puddle you left on the carpet when you threw the humidifier across the room.
I just bought a 3-pack of scotch tape that will stitch up those books you tore to shreds.
I can pick up the pillows, the blankets, the sheets, faster than you can throw them.
We have more wipes in the basement – make it rain, babies! Make it rain!
Even at your tender ages of one and two, you fully understand that chocolate can make everything right in the world again. WelI, babies, I have full access to that dark brown magic elixir in the metal basket on top of our craft-covered kitchen island. And I ain’t afraid of a couple extra pounds.