The twins are 2.5 years old. To celebrate, they decided to dip my hairbrush into the toilet bowl the better to smooth each other's curls. They were also thirsty. And apparently, toilet water tastes mighty fine, thank you very much.
There have been a whole series of these events. A few weeks ago they decided to run away from me, slam their brothers' bedroom door. AND LOCK ME OUT.
That was fun.
Then there was the whole ransacking of big sister's nail polish stash. Sneaky little things crept silently into her room and very quietly proceeded to WILDLY PAINT each other's toes, feet, hands and carpet. I'd only left them alone for three minutes (FOR REALS) and by the time I found them, they looked like careless vampires from a Twilight movie gone horribly awry.
That was messy.
We've called this twin-thing the Gangster Effect. Instead of spurring each other on to godliness and good works, they spur each other on to ungodliness and destruction.
Worst of all, they seem to enjoy it.
Last night at approximately 1:16 am, there was an odd rustling in the kitchen. Matt got up to investigate and discovered the twins, in poopy diapers, helping themselves to the snack drawer.
Apparently, on their way to ask us to change them they decided that such a long journey required several bags of chips, one or two granola bars and maybe some trail mix. You know, just a little repast to sustain weary travelers.
AT 1:16 am!
We've been awakened at odd hours to find them holed up in their closet reading books, wiping down the walls with wet wipes or carrying on full-volume conversations about Spinderella and Sleeping Nooty.
I fully expect to be awakened at 3 am by a police officer at our front door informing us that our toddlers were found at the local sushi bar, chatting it up and throwing back shots of apple juice.
The other night I woke up screaming because I was convinced the twins had broken into the medicine cabinet and I was all: NO, JORIE! TYLENOL IS NOT JUICE!
How children survive to adulthood just totally baffles me. Oh, wait. I know how it happens. Their parents sacrifice their lives, their means and their sanity.
Still, I wouldn't trade this life for anything else. Raising kids is the best adventure. Ever.
Today after waking up from a nap (yes, I take a daily nap–it's the only way I survive), I rolled over, kissed Matt and said: "Let's have just one more."
See? See? I AM INSANE!
p.s. He said, "No."
p.p.s I said, "Fine. We'll adopt. I want to rescue a whole sibling group of orphans."
p.p.p.s. He said, "We'll see."
YEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!
