The plan was simple: drive out to Waialae-Iki Park, grab lunch at Kahala Mall, then head home. I don’t know why I ever plan anything.
I knew that Waialae-Iki Park had swings, but I mistakenly thought that there was a toddler-friendly play area. There wasn’t. Lynnette and I tried out best to get Avery and Cole interested in the stuff they could get on, but the twins had other ideas about fun which included trying to eat leaves and gnawing on fallen tree branches. At least the playing surface was padded. Cole spent a whole 4 minutes amusing himself by walking up and down the short, shallow incline from foam down to concrete. He was so proud of himself.
Madison took the opportunity to put as much distance between herself and us as she could. She climbed into a couple of trees, sat on the slide, and did a generally bad job of pretending she couldn’t hear me call her name for help. Her body stiffens when she hears me call her name, but then she goes back to do whatever she was doing. I am a secret scoundrel, Madison. You can’t fool me because I spend all my time in a state of low-level paranoia trying to imagine how people are trying to fool me. It’s exhausting but I can’t help it; it’s like breathing at this point.
Speaking of breathing, there’s something about Lynnette when the sun’s at her back and its rays filter through strands of her hair. She’s outlined by golden edges and it makes her soft. Warm. It was enough to take my breath away. True, chasing Cole and Avery around to make sure they didn’t eat debris also robbed my lungs of air, but Lynnette definitely played a significant role.
“The next time we go to a restaurant, let’s play man-to-man defense,” Lynnette said. “What?” I said. “You take one and I’ll take one, and we’ll feed them at the same time so we can eat at the same time and one of us doesn’t have to eat fast so the other one can eat. No more zone defense,” she said. “But why the sports metaphor?” I asked. “I’m just trying to speak your language,” she said. She said the last three words oozed sarcasm and she emphasized this sarcasm by making awkward hand motions that I didn’t recognize from any sport. But it seemed like a good idea. Generally, I play safety – not responsible for specific coverage, but assigned to swoop in to help – since I am too slow to play cornerback. Is everyone following along with this metaphor? Great. Great job, guys.
Anyway, this defensive strategy looked sound on paper but then we tried it out today at CPK and we might have to go back to the drawing board. Because, you know, in order for this plan to work out, Cole and Avery have to cooperate. Avery, of course, ate well. She devoured her pasta, Cheerios, and mum-mums – and also the ends of three complimentary crayons. But don’t worry, her saliva only got into the package, the crayon bits didn’t seep out. Cole on the other hand was upset about being in a high chair and didn’t want to eat anything. Lynnette took him for a walk to calm him down, but it didn’t work. I took him for a walk and let him amble around the Verizon kiosk for 5 minutes. When I brought him back he finally started eating things. My food was cold by then, but that’s what happens sometimes when you have twin toddlers. On the bright side, at least I got to pick up three handfuls of Cheerios and other delights from under the table.