It began with a snack. Because the way to their heart is always a snack. I cut up a muffin into bite sized pieces, put it on a plate, and grabbed a fork. Because they love to eat from a fork.
I sit on the couch forking muffin into their sweet mouths. First one, then the other. And although they say some words, they communicate almost exclusively with a series of grunts and points.
Kingston grunts with his mouth wide open like a little bird nonstop until the muffin is gone. Uh, uh, uh.... fork full. Uh, uh, uh... fork full. Uh, uh, uh... fork full. I look down. Ugh! Be a good mom and pay attention! Mouth is OVER full of muffin. He can hardly shut his mouth. Crumbs spilling everywhere, smiley wildly.
Kyrie sips water from his cup. But he has figured out how to sort of flick the cup out of his mouth and spray water EVERYWHERE with every drink. Sip. Splash. Fits of laughter. Sip. Splash. Fits of laughter.
Kingston grabs legos. One blue block and one blue thing with wheels. Crashes them on the window sill. Kyrie gets a gleam in his eye and runs to Kingston. Takes both items. Kingston screams and throws himself to the ground. He is crying like the dickens.
"Kyrie. Kingston was playing with those. You need to give them back."
He runs with a giggle away from me and the screaming blur of limbs by the window. As I follow him, and almost catch up, he doubles back and offers Kingston the blue block.
It's enough to melt my heart and stop the cries of his brother.
They are both content with legos for a moment, so I sneak to the kitchen and start washing potatoes. Twenty seconds and 2 potatoes later, I feel a tug and hear, "aap... aap... aap..." I scoop up Kyrie and continue washing potatoes as he leans into the running water shrieking. His laughter is contagious and I'm splashing with him.
I then remember that I have two boys, and I cannot hear the other one. Not a good sign.
As I walk to the living room I see Kingston with his ultimate find. My cell phone. Down goes Kyrie after him. Kingston's pushing buttons and running away. Watching me. Slip. Fall. Cry.
I scoop him up and cradle him, sneaking the iPhone unsuccessfully away. Cries somehow get louder. Phone gets handed back to him. Giggles escape his mouth. Writhes free and runs away again.
"Kingston, bring it to mommy."
Backs into corner and looks to the ceiling. He thinks I can't see him. Because he's hiding.
"Kingston, bring it to mommy."
Up walks Kyrie. Hand holding nothing, but pinched like he's holding something. He brings me his imaginary nothing. Places the nothing gently in my hand and smiles.
He's already figured out how to own me.
Kingston will not be outdone. He runs to me, phone strategically behind himself in his hand. He leads with his lips. Puckered.
Lays one on me. Wet. Messy. Perfect.
Kyrie gets the phone and screaming ensues. I take the phone. Put it on counter.
Surround sound screaming.
I sit. Scoop up one boy. Rock a bye... another backs his sweet little booty onto my lap. Nudges his brother away. The one in my arms twists out, even more mad. I try holding one on each leg, one arm around each. "Mommy has two boys. We can share mommy." They're not having it. A leg pushes a thigh. A stiff arm in the others' face. A grunt. A scream. Hitting. Rolling. Trying to contain them both in my arms. Trying to contain their cries.
UGH!
I see a bare foot and snag my out.
"Tickle, tickle." (Giggles) "Teek, teek, teek" in response. Fingers attack sweet chubby feet and two boys are smiling once again.
I roll on my stomach and bury my face in my arms. ((SIGH))
Mommy needs a minute.
But mommy is dreaming if she thinks that is happening. One boy immediately crawls on my back. I can hear his giggles and feel him trying to stand on my back. Disaster waiting to happen. Before I can pick my head up, another diapered bottom is sitting on it. Yes. On my head. I twist out of the jaws of doom and stand.
"aap... aap... aap..." Kyrie.
"uuh... uuh..." Kingston.
I scoop them both up.
Clunk. Ah. The blue block is back. Banging on my head.
Awesome.
Put him down. Crying. Take away block. More crying. Scoop back up. Sigh. We're good.
Two arms. Two boys in them.
And two clean, raw potatoes for dinner.
