This is Sunday.
I put them to bed. I snuggle them down. Noah has Ted and Ivy’s arms cling tightly around BokBok, boa also in hand.
They are so not ready to settle but I sit with them anyhow, willing them to go to sleep.
As twins they have the right, it seems, to suddenly start a banter of toddler babble back and forth over parental heads.
David is grotty. He has spent the afternoon mowing the toys lawn. He is sighing and fidgeting, so I send him off to the shower.
Soon they start singing;
Ivy; “Ooh Wiggywiggywiggy! Oohh wiggywiggywiggy! Givemethatgivemethatgivemethat cheese!”
Noah: “Ro – ock uh byeeee bahbee, onthetreetop! When de win bloessss (growling) cradlewillrock… I throw de rock Mummy”?
Me: “No, Noah, we don’t throw rocks, now go to sleep. Close your eyes”.
Noah: Pulls lids of eyes down manually, “I carrrrrn’t”.
Me: “Shoosh”. (smiling not so inwardly).
Noah: “Sauce? I like de sauce, Mummy”.
Me: “Not sauce No – No, shoosh.
Noah: (singing) Shoosh? Sauce! Sauce, sauce, sauce, sauce!
Ivy: (interjects) “Shoes“!
Noah: “Shoes? Yes! Shoes, sauce, sauce, sauce, shoes, sauce”,
Ivy: (interjecting again) “Shorts!”
Noah: “Sauce, sauce, sauce, shorts, sauce, shoes, sauce, sauce, sauce sauce. No – ot shoosh!”
David comes back from the shower and I leave.
I have to.
I am laughing so hard, my insides hurt.