We took Cole and Avery to their 18-month check up a couple of weeks ago. I snapped some pictures, then totally forgot about them. Here they are with obligatory commentary, of course.
This shouldn’t come as a surprise at all, but do you know what Cole and Avery like more than anything else in the world (non-food category)? They like when Lynnette and I put them down and let them run about an open space. Back when we first got them shoes, they’d curl up their toes and ball up their feet in an attempt to prevent us from affixing the footwear. Now? They know it means we’re going to let them run around, so they splay out their chubby feet and toes and let us slide the slippers right on. But, because nothing with these two can be simple, they were drawn most to the electrical outlets. They also seemed to delight in dropping their snacks on the floor, then eating them.
Avery is quickly emerging as the ringleader of trouble. She and Cole are not partners in crime as there is an obvious hierarchy forming. It was Avery, for example, who first decided to climb into the shelving under the patient’s table in the room. It was also Avery who decided to open the cabinet where the diaper cloths are stored; she was also the first to liberate said diaper clothes by throwing them all over the floor. When Lynnette and I burst into the room, Avery quickly and quietly jogged out of the room to leave Cole under the bus holding the bag with red hands. If Cole doesn’t wise up soon, he’s going to be the fall guy for a whole bunch of Avery’s tomfoolery.
Cole is a nice, sweet guy (he gets that from me, obviously). He enjoys simple things (ditto), like running with both arms behind his back (not me). Recently, Avery’s been ripping his pacifier from his mouth, then putting the WHOLE THING into her mouth. Cole’s first reaction was to hit Avery, to push her away. Lynnette and I have repeatedly told him such behavior is not allowed, and he’s listened. But now he’s at a disadvantage. When Avery pull her run-by pacifier heists, all Cole does is hold out both arms in an attempt to keep her away from his precious binky. It never works. We usually get to Avery only after she’s turned the binky into chewing gum. She then throws herself on the floor and fake-cries like she’s the victim.
But since we’re here, I’d like to share with you all a story. A week or two ago my mother-in-law told me a story when I got home from work. Apparently Cole and Avery were in their bedroom and both were quiet. That is the loudest signal of trouble in our home and the homes of families of young children everywhere. According to my mother-in-law, one or both of the twins had unloaded doot pebbles from their diapers (she checked both and neither had remnants). By the time she showed up at the party, Cole and Avery had been stomping the pebbles into the carpet. My mother-in-law – who is a few steps away from sainthood – laughed as she told me about scrubbing them down, and cleaning the carpet. She told me about which pieces of laundry I should probably wash (all of them), and which blankets and sheets I should wash (all of them). So yeah. That’s where we are.