Valentine’s Day. And I had not one, but TWO fantabulous dates.
5:57 p.m.: Our dinner date begins.
Whirling dervish of paws and fur greets us at the door. Muppets involved in chaos – extent of which remains undetermined.
Run upstairs to change into appropriate outfit – running shorts and well-worn Jackets baseball tshirt. Return to kitchen. Fur is literally flying. Every lower cabinet now emptied of contents.
“Uhoh!” says Destroy.
Reheat plastic container of Velveeta Cheesy Skillets Nacho Supreme pasta – with ground Buffalo. (It is a fancy date after all.) Stuff muppets into table-latch chairs. Dish dinner concoction.
“Search! Plates stay on the table. Seriously – do NOT throw that food on the floor…”
<Plate raised. Extended to the side. Tipped. FLING>
“Oh my god! Destroy are you choking?”
<Gasp. Hack. Cough.> Ok, he’s breathing. So we’ve got that going for us.
“Cracker?” requests Search.
No. <Point at food strewn on the floor.>
“Sit down! We do not climb out of our high chairs.”
<Gasp. Hack. Cough.> “Oh my god! Destroy are you choking? Sit. Down. Search.”
Situation under review. One choking muppet, the other about to hurl himself from the high chair. This will likely require stitches. Calculate popsicle options in the freezer to stem potential blood floor. Debate calling ambulance versus wrestling both muppets into car seats.
Leap from seat. Slip on flung plate. Land smack in remnants of Search’s dinner.
“Mommeeee down,” narrates Destroy. Clearly still breathing.
Contemplate how people so tiny can be so wiggly and strong during (failed) attempt to wipe down the little ones.
6:23 p.m.: Our dinner date concludes.
Snuggle with laughing toddlers. And this, folks, is why we do what we do. And also why Mommy writes this blog. You can’t make this stuff up.