No go on the pictures still. Something happened to the only computer that can attach pictures. The computer I'm on now is so old (how old is it?), it has a floppy drive (remember those?). So until I can recount our trip with pics (hopefully I'll still remember what happened on that trip, I think I have a mass exodus of brain cells daily), I'll have to fill in with little twin tidbits.
Really think twice before taking toddlers (especially ones named Micah) to one of those restaurants where they cook "teppan" style (at your table). Because when you catch said toddler using both hands to literally toss his salad, and you ask what he's doing, and he says, "cooking," you have no one to blame but yourself.
Even little kids know when their dad has been working a lot. Here is Micah's prayer from the other day: "God a food, Dad at work A-GAIN, uh, uh, uh, dove in trees, uh, uh, birds, Amen!" While we are on the subject of prayers, Micah and Kara both insist on praying at least once a day, more if we let them. Kara's prayers are usually short, with much unintellligible, though on day she prayed, "Gog (God), food, Micah, home, fafe (safe), amen!" Micah had been running errands with Dad, and she missed her twin. Say it with me, "Ahhhhhhh." Micah's prayers are often a verbal stream of consciousness, like this: "Thanka God, food, Dad, safe, fire engine, garbage truck come, cans, dump stinky diapers, (interrupted by a burp, followed by a giggle), uh, make an "x", uh Elmo, fire engine, Amen!" I guess the scary thing is that I understood it all.
We are still in potty training mode, and we consider it a special victory when the WTs go #2 in the toilet. Consequently, the twins are particularly eager for us to see their, er, "productions." Micah called me in one day to see his "output" and Potty Coach Kara was in there as well. As I walk in to take a glance, I notice a pink log floating in the toilet. As I say, "What is that?" Micah says, "Kara did it." Not sure what kind of coaching methodology this was, but she threw one side of a pink toothbrush case in with the other floating objects. Needless to say, I made sure the WTs were far away when I took a chopstick and fished the case out and deposited it in the garbage.
Our daughter who was labeled "mentally retarded" in China is one clever cookie (though she refers to herself as "Momma sugar pie"). I was giving her a potty pep talk one day and showed her the underwear I had bought to use once training was complete. Well of course she wanted to use them right then and there, but I told her no, she had to keep her diapers and pull-ups dry all the time first. That set her off and she started to wail and drama queen it. I decided to leave her to her drama (she was sitting on the toilet at the time), and went into the kitchen. A few minutes later she announces she is done and I tell her that I'll be there in a minute. Before I can make it to the bathroom, she turns the corner and shouts a very triumphant "Ha-HA!" That little stinker had pulled the underwear over her pull-up, and her shorts over her underwear. And that my friends, it called getting around the system.
I will not quit my day job to become an investigator. One day I heard Kara crying so I went to investigate. Both Micah and Kara were sitting in the hallway, and I immediately became suspicious as to the reason for her distress. She had a mark on her, so I began interrrogating the only suspect I had. "Micah, how did Kara get this owie?" (Micah feigns concern) "Ooo, oh, yes." "How did she get the owie?" (Now the suspect begins to look around, avoiding my penetrating gaze) "Oh, uh (smacks lips), uh (smack), she fell backyard." "Micah, you two were not in the backyard today. How did Kara get her owie?" "Oh, (smack), uh, (smack), she hit the door." "She hit the door? "Uh, (smack), yes." Before I could ask the question again, the suspect offers a third explanation, "She hit the wall, right here" (runs over to a wall with a small spot on it and points to that spot). Realizing I am getting nowhere fast, I turn to the victim whom I am sure will give up her brother as the perpetrator readily. You can imagine my surprise, when on questioning, she made this statement, "Fall, whoa, backyard, like that She corroborated his story! (well, at least one of them). I had no choice, but to let the suspect go free.
Beware the quiet. You would think I would know this one by now. (Remember what I said about my brain cells?) I had one of those eerily quiet moments one day, so I went to investigate. I came upon a rather comical scene. Kara was scolding Micah, who was standing on a chair reaching into the candy jar. She was saying, "Micah, get down!" That was followed by an "Oooooo." When I let my presence by known, Micah was under the table furiously trying to unwrap something. Kara was getting off the chair with a piece of gum (foil and all) in her mouth trying to look innocent. When I called Micah's name, he tried to throw me off with the "answer a question with a question" technique. When I asked what he was doing, he held up the contraband item and asked, "Uh, is this a lollipop Mom?" Nice try, kid.
Hey, a shout out to my readers from Norway. It might interest you to know that my kids are part Viking, part Samurai. That kind of makes things make sense, doesn't it?
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