Tomfoolery

If you’re a parent, you might think you know a thing or two about shenanigans. I am here to tell you that you really don’t know much until you have twins. You don’t believe me, do you? Just think about this for a minute. I want you to close your eyes and envision the chaos in your kitchen that happens in the 45 seconds while you pee. In that time, a miniature version of you has upended a ten pound bag of flour onto the floor and done a dance in it. They’re also probably naked.

Now take that toddlernado and double it.

Boogie is in the middle of a growth spurt and currently spends his days eating everything that’s not nailed to the floor. He ate four pieces of toast and two hotdogs and a string cheese and three glasses of milk for breakfast today. He then took a nap and ate another hot dog, a piece of leftover pizza and an orange with another glass of milk. His jeans have officially become jeggings.

Much to Boogie’s delight, the pantry doors at Mom & Dad’s house are the sliding closet variety. He’s got unfettered access to a plethora of food groups – hand this kid a can opener and I’ll never have to cook again. The boy also found a Costco pack of fruit snacks at ground level. Said box could double as a baby bathtub and holds roughly 175,000 pouches of all natural, no sugar added fruit snacks. In Boogie-speak, they’re DUMMMMIESSSS! I serve but one purpose now: Dummy Opener.

I finally chased him out of the pantry and stashed the dummies out of reach. Ran to the bathroom, only to come out and find Boogie elbow-deep in a ziplock bag of jelly beans, chasing his sister in a loop through the kitchen and living room because she stole his dummies. I knew this is what had happened because Boogie’s explanation of “Noooooooo!!” as he ran along with Pook’s mad cackle. Of course, the dummies are too much for Pook’s tongue so she reaches into her mouth and flings them, half-chewed and fully sticky, onto the carpet. She’s still running. Boogie is running too, jelly beans spilling out of his baggie like a trail behind him. Boogie takes a major header and slides into the cabinet ankle-first, but the jeggings are so tight that they double as a tourniquet. I’m pretty sure we’ve saved his leg.

Long story short: I have sticky spots on the soles of my feet from finding hidden dummies, Pook ran a quarter of a mile and Boogie has the diabeetus. At least he’s not an amputee.