Valentineâ€™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 â€“ extent of which remains undetermined.
Run upstairs to change into appropriate outfit â€“ running shorts and well-worn Jackets baseball tshirt. Return to kitchen. Fur is literally flying. Every lower cabinet now emptied of contents.
â€œUhoh!â€ says Destroy.
Reheat plastic container of Velveeta Cheesy Skillets Nacho Supreme pasta â€“ with ground Buffalo. (It is a fancy date after all.) Stuff muppets into table-latch chairs. Dish dinner concoction.
â€œSearch! Plates stay on the table. Seriously â€“ do NOT throw that food on the floorâ€¦â€
<Plate raised. Extended to the side. Tipped. FLING>
â€œOh my god! Destroy are you choking?â€
<Gasp. Hack. Cough.> Ok, heâ€™s breathing. So weâ€™ve got that going for us.
â€œCracker?â€ requests Search.
No. <Point at food strewn on the floor.>
â€œSit down! We do not climb out of our high chairs.â€
<Gasp. Hack. Cough.> â€œOh my god! Destroy are you choking? Sit. Down. Search.â€
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 Searchâ€™s dinner.
â€œMommeeee down,â€ 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 canâ€™t make this stuff up.