This week, we bid a fond farewell to the grandparents.
They had changed diapers and exercised boys and held down the fort as I continued recuperating.
We would not have made it through this time without the help we received from both our sets of parents, especially our mothers. They are awesome!
Now, we're on our own. And I must say, it's been going rather spectacularly.
|Oh, the hilarity of putting on sister's bib!|
|And what brother does...|
|We have a Waldo fanatic in the house.|
We got there an hour or so before story time, read books, played with the table toys, and colored. I nursed Baby Girl in the stacks, with the boys confined to the stroller by virtue of some illegal goldfish crackers. We joined the story time group with nary an asocial meltdown, and actually participated in the songs and rhymes. All was going perfectly until the very end. Then, the boys launched into one of their bear cub wrestling matches, laughing hysterically and rolling one over the other across the floor, knocking into small children and daycare workers as they tumbled. I was quick behind them, knee walking across the library floor, with Baby Girl in my arms, tripping over her swaddling blanket, whisper-hissing threats of imminent misery. To no avail, of course. They couldn't hear me over their body slams and knockdowns.Remember that???