Quin, MomAgain

I'm suddenly the mom of toddlers again.

Mr. Neebes and the Sisterwife are out of town for the weekend, and I was elected to watch the Toddlers. True Toddlers, 2 & 4 year olds, who have extensive vocabularies, parents who are both in the arts, therefore giving them rather dramatic personalities, and they have elder siblings (who are farmed out for this weekend, I am beyond handling that many children) who have taught them the ropes.

"I am going to my friends house." T.M. tells me.

"Which friend?"

"If you don't know, I can't see the reason to tell you again. I told you his name once."

A.K. dresses like a princess. Four or five times a day. She sings to me quite a bit, in a clear soprano voice that hints at what it will be in the next few years. I am looking forward to those years. Her ringlets and deep blue eyes betray a razor sharp mind and lead you to think she is nothing but a pretty face in an Ariel dress.

"Miss Quin..." I hear the phrase all day long. We discuss rock people, why the terrier is tired of eating treats and the reason she prefers her pink blanket to her blue one. When you think you simply cannot take another Miss Quin, she smiles, dimples glowing and says, "I love you so much". No one loves like a two year old.

Her brother is a solid block of boy. He saves his hugs and gives them only if you've earned them. He has no idea why his sister is crying. Well, perhaps it's because he slugged her in the back....maybe. He'll have to think on it, and while he's thinking, will you sit next to him and watch TV. He feeds the terrier snacks that come up later on. He races about on his small bike, no shoes, going places in his imagination. He holds doors open and says please and thank you then turns around and can only say one word; no.

They rely on me for everything, food, juice, kisses on owies, being tucked into bed, sitting next to them in the maybe scary part when we watch Harry Potter for the 2,472nd time.

You forget that little boy smell, the way a little girl wraps her arms around your neck as she protests she's not sleepy... the way they stop crying when you pick them up, and listen to whatever it was that upset them, the joy in their voice when you announce pudding for dessert.

I would never do this again full time.....but, for this weekend... we're having a pretty good time. Check with me again on Sunday evening and see how we all survived.