We don't, as you might imagine, get out that much. There are, of course, several factors at play as to why that is, the obvious one being that our children arrived in a two-pack. Seriously, just getting us all ready and out the door and safely buckled into the car feels like an accomplishment. I'm sometimes ready to just head right back inside for a snack and a nap after that. I swear I haven't actually done that, though. Yet.
Another reason I don't take them out with me all that often is because we are blessed to have family close by. In fact, both sets of grandparents and the majority of the aunts and uncles reside within a 30-mile radius, and the outliers are only double that. Several days a week, we have family come over to help wrangle toddlers while I attempt to get something--anything--done. And yes, often a shower is on that list. Or IS that list, depending on the day. So, honestly, when help is so forthcoming, and my choice then becomes to run errands with them while we're on our own, or without them while on my own... I mean, right?
And the other facet of this is really, really simple: I AM LAZY. I am. I so totally am. Which is hilarious actually, especially in this context, because I used to do this for a living. I used to help run households, all with at least a couple, if not a few, children, and getting them all ready and out of the house and to various engagements and back home again, on schedule and with all details seen to comprised my workday. Every single day. And more than a few times over the past year and a half, I have considered that our lives could be so very different if, say, I worked full-time and we all had to get up and out the door every morning on a schedule... And then I immediately realize that I'm pretty sure THAT WOULD NEVER WORK. Like my mind cannot even comprehend that reality for us at this point. And so how lucky are we that that doesn't have to be our reality? SO. LUCKY. And...what the hell happened to me? Nevermind. Let's not go there.
BUT. My children do still need to get out of the house, and ideally, that's done with help, because, well, because twins. And eventually we'll look into preschool because even though we plan to homeschool, preschool is AWESOME and I think they would LOVE it. The new toys and activities and songs and stories and fellow wee folk and adoring teachers... And I think I would LOVE it. For all those reasons, of course. And also maybe because FREE TIME TO MYSELF. Because, apparently, that's like a thing in some parenting circles. I intend to investigate. Fully. Soon.
So until then, my children--because we don't really have friends with similar aged children we see on a regular basis--really only interact with other children here and there, usually on the playground. But this means it doesn't happen all that frequently (remember that whole LAZY bit?), which makes what happened today that much more awesome. Granted, they have each other, so they have a leg up on dealing with other fellow tiny humans, but the question is always whether that translates over to dealing with strange fellow tiny humans. Not strange as in strange, of course, just strange as in, not of this family. Strangers. Assuming they're anything like us, though, perhaps just a different brand of strange. I mean, we're all mad here, right?
Anyway. So what actually happened today while we were out with Grandma Lemur at the indoor playground at the mall? Well, I'll tell you. I was following King Toad Agooga around the playground when a little boy dropped his granola bar near our feet as we passed. I, in fact, didn't even notice until I saw KTA bend down to pick it up, and assuming he was about to eat it himself, I was just opening my mouth to stop him when he immediately and without hesitation handed it to the little boy who had dropped it.
My 18-month-old, an age when many are in the throes of "mine!" (according to the updates I receive from that ubiquitous love it/hate it source of baby and parenting info), a child who has not had the opportunity to interact with children he doesn't intimately know on a regular basis, didn't even stop to think about it. It was reactionary and intuitive. AND IT MADE MY LIFE.
Oh, my sweet, sweet boy. I love you right up to the moon.
AND BACK.
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