Tom: How was your day?
Twin No. 1: Mommy took a nap today. For like more than an hour.
Tom: Oh, re-e-e-eally?
It doesn't matter if your husband snores like a banshee and you've been awakened every few hours to redose a kid with tylenol and then get woken at 5:45 a.m. when your daughter has a nosebleed. It just sounds bad when your kid rats you out to your husband. (Although it wasn't as embarrassing as the time Elvis announced to his grandfather, "Mommy is wearing a black bra." Note to self: close door ALL THE WAY SHUT when dressing.)
On the other hand, this morning at the bus stop I was asked for too much information. The daughter of neighbors, age 7, said, "I wonder how babies get out of their mothers' tummies." I made a noncommittal noise, hoping she'd be distracted, when she asked me point-blank. A thousand thoughts rush through my mind: Don't lie, it's a perfectly normal question, don't push the kid into a shame spiral, MUST NOT TELL NEIGHBORS' KIDS FACTS OF LIFE OR I WILL BE ARRESTED. For once, I blessed my two C-sections, saying, "Well, it depends on the mommy and the baby. When I had the twins, the doctor
After several days of sick kids, I nearly kissed the bus driver. I'm really looking forward to a day of catching up -- with no nosy questions and nobody except the bunny to tell all my secrets.
Unlike my kids, the bunny can easily be bribed with carrots.
