To Their Own Devices

"So I was all like,"Who cares if they glued their faces to the garage door, the meatloaf's in the oven isn't it?"

Afternoon Readers,

     It's getting harder and harder to get things done around this joint. Not only am I moving at the pace of a snail who just found out that he has to meet his blind date at a salt lick, but the twins are getting faster and craftier, and thinner and better looking and reminding me that my youth is gone and so is my deodorant. And it all stinks...especially me.
And survey says: people like me better when I smell like sweet hydrangeas and honeysuckle canoodling on a dewy spring morning.

     At any rate, I'm having to either find things to keep Butch and Sundance busy or ignore the horrible disasters they're concocting and keep folding the laundry. The hard part is convincing Husband that I'm not ignoring them in order to get stuff done. For instance, as were lying in bed the other evening it became abundantly clear I'm going to have to up my game and reapply my poker face...

     "Honey, are there crumbs in my bed?"

     I rolled over and stopped breathing.

     "I said, am I laying on crumbs...in my bed? ....where we didn't eat dinner tonight."

     "The crumbs have always been there," I whispered into the dark.

     "So, you weren't letting the twins eat in here while you were off doing something else?"

     Exhaling heavily, I slapped the headboard. "What I find frustrating is how it was your idea to buy a mattress stuffed with crumbs and then you don't bother remembering. Good night, sir."

     Explaining away crumbs is one thing; People tend to trust you about crumbs and why you just maybe let those passing carnies sleep in the backyard, but it's harder when you start getting notices from the city.

     "Paige, it says here the twins were found busking outside the gas station and accepting donations in their tennis shoes."

     "I was trying to load the dishwasher."

     "They don't even play instruments."

     "Maybe you don't know what they can and can't do. Here, take a clean fork."

And...

     "Sweetheart, this says Social Services found our children "Handing out old gift bags with dirty stuffed animals in them" to the neighbors. Do you know anything about that?"

     "No, but when one needs to spiral slice a ham, by hand, one needs quiet. More ham?"

     Sure, maybe the "Start" button is missing from the dishwasher, there's a baby face-print that stares at you from the wall while you sleep...and perhaps you didn't imagine that hole they knocked in the wall that other people from different time periods keep walking out of...

But, for heaven sakes, man, didn't even notice that I got your underwear washed today?

So, quick poll: If you need to get something done, do you create an activity bucket to keep children busy, or ignore the sizzling sound the cat's making?

Until Next Time Readers!