The past few days have been your typical wacky, rowdy, silliness around here. Over the weekend the kids attended a birthday party. Key and most memorable features at the party were a) the extra lovable large doggie that lives there (Erin was terrified of him, Kate would have loved to have taken him home and traded Allison for him as a roommate),
b) the weird balloon/magician dude they hired, which none of the girls wanted to get too close to, and I can't blame them, because the way he talked and looked and acted makes Elton John of 1977 look conservative, and,
c) the cake, which features prominantly in their mind at each and every birthday party they attend.
Weird as the guy was, the girls were impressed with his various balloon creations.
At the park today Kate discovered some extra fancy plastic princess heeled shoes which were set aside by another little girl. Kate loved the clicky sound they made on the pavement, and perhaps she enjoyed being a bit taller too. I never have liked heels with jeans, personally. Oh wait, that's right, I don't like heels, period. But I gotta say, she did pull them off well. She was a model in search of a runway. Just one more tidbit to lead me to suspect that my girls were switched at birth.
Lately the dining ambiance around here has taken a turn for the worst, which really hardly seemed possible. For the past 2-3 days the twins are finding it hilarious to tear up food into little pieces, scrunch them with their hands, and yell about how yucky everything is, even if they have been given one of their favorite foods. Not that I would take their criticism seriously in any case. I mean, these are kids who drop a banana on the ground at the playground and have a fit when I insist that since it is now covered in dirt and wood chip splinters, they should not continue eating it.
I wonder if one of these days we'll have children who are well mannered enough to take to fancy restaurants. You know, like IHOP or something.
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