Well, I am now a real Mom. I just hit a milestone. First time ever: I shouted, "Inge! Lewis!! Tuppence!" before arriving at the correct candidate: Michelle, who was high-speed crawling into the bathroom while I tried to wash her brother's hands.
We had just returned from the co-op, where (to the musical noise of Michelle wishing out loud that she could be somewhere else and taking a nap) we had bought honey, sesame oil, dried apricots, dried nectarines, vinegar, and brand new multi-vitamins). Nearly ever since we got home, Michelle had been screaming in the playroom while I washed out her bottle and tried to administer Lewis's multi--which, since he especially wanted to administer it himself, I postponed until after he had gone potty and washed his hands. (Picture me faking right and left with the vitamin, and Lewis ducking and dodging, while trying to eke a particularly complicated sentence about a vitamin out of a limited vocabulary.) Turned out, Michelle was screaming because the cat was using her as a chew-n-bat toy. Understandable. I looked deep inside myself at that point, and discovered a real Mother Bear component; the cat's ensuing sideways progress didn't stop until she had briskly encountered the vacuum cleaner on the other side of the hallway. A quick peek at Lewis in the bathroom revealed that he was putting on his underwear inside out, backwards,
and upside down. I don't know how he manages such consistency, but it's got to say something about his character (future corporate manager, perhaps?) Grabbed the all-terrain Michelle out of the bathroom, washed
her hands, and began to apply the bottle. Meanwhile, Inge comes out and, standing sociably on the handle of my recliner, converses with me about putting her dolly's shoes on. The handle falls off. Out comes Lewis from the bathroom; he has his jeans on backwards, too.
Right now, Inge and Lewis are belting out the doxology with all their might and main. They're "having school."
L'chaim, eh?