Today I went with my sister and her twin babies to the park.


It went like this:

Someone: “Hey, let’s go to Trader Joe’s because food is good.”

(some general rushing around)

Sister: “Do you have the shoes?”

Me: “No, I’m getting them food, should I get shoes?”

Sister: “No, I’ll get them.”

(door opens, babies toddle to door)

Sister: “Oh, Davis, those are stairs.”

(also known to mothers of twins as the yawning abyss of all things dangerous and terrible)

Me: “Do you need help?”

(fumbling with cheese and clementines)

Sister: “Uh, yeah.”

(relatively patient tone given the stupid question)

Five minutes later:

(children deposited in car seats, some crying)

(more rushing around generally)

(I see the diaper bag on the counter and disregard it)

In the car:

Sister: “I don’t think we should go to Trader Joe’s.”

Me: “Oh.”

Sister: “It’s rush hour. Let’s go to the park.”

(also known to the mother of twins as the best place ever with all sorts of distracting items that prevent crying and sadness)

Me: “In the car?”

Sister: “Well, we are in the car.”

(also known as an exceptionally reasonable argument for the mother of twins to make)

Me: “Ok.”

(as we drive I regale my sister with an exciting recounting of all the emails I have received in the last three days, which she finds thrilling)

At the park:

(there is crying, but only in car seats, so we get out of the car seats)

Sister: “Will you get their shoes?”

Me: “Did you put the diaper bag in the car?”

(because I didn’t)

Sister: “I think so. On Margaret’s side.”

(but I saw it on the counter)

(still, I go on dutifully, mumbling…I don’t think it’s there)

(it isn’t there)

(we go to the park anyway)

(and swing and run around barefoot)

(and everyone admires the beautiful blonde twin babies)

(except for one crazy au pair who is about 5’1” and holding a five-year-old boy in her arms who has stiffened his entire body and is huffing air in and out like a wild boar while she says things to calm him down)

Russian au pair: “You make sleep. You make sleep. Sleep.”

(he didn’t)

Russian au pair: “Your sister is here! Your sister!”

(she was indeed, and maybe 7 years old)

Russian au pair: “No hospital, yes? You want no hospital, yes?”

(whatever that’s supposed to mean)

(it was a little uncomfortable)

(later we went home)


One response »

  1. ah ha ha ha ha ha. LOVE it. that is such a wonderful recounting of that event.

    “Oh, no, Davis. Those are stairs!”

    (aka: CRISIS ALERT!)

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