Dave yelled “bye” as he walked out the door, and both Goos went running to the window to wave goodbye to him. I stood there thinking “how sweet” for about 4 seconds until Owen started to take his Jammie pants off. I shook my head and started to look for my phone. A pic of O-baby in his tidy whites (well, technically, yellow with purple monsters) would be my first message of the day to Mike with the caption “Takes after his Daddy.” Unfortunately, before I was able to grab the phone the yellow/orange tidies were also disposed of and there was my two and half year old son standing in the window.
Avery, who was already dressed for the day, started pulling at her shorts. “NO!” I said, and ran upstairs to get Owen some clothes. In the 20 seconds I was upstairs, Avery had managed to get her shorts and undies off and both twins were running bareback through the living room. At what point in our lives, deos the thought of running with your tush hanging out go from great fun to the worst idea ever?
I grab Owen to begin to get him dressed and decide it was time to have a serious conversation with my twins.
“OK Goos! Listen up.” I announced, “We need to have a talk. We do NOT take off our clothes. We do not let other people see our private parts. Right here,” I point, “this is private. Only Mommy. And Daddy…And the doctor” Humm…Ellie helps them go potty too. And Dave. And my mother. The list was growing.
“Where is my bear, Mummy?” Avery whined in a British accent. The twins are in love with a British TV show called Peppa Pig and have picked up the nuances of the show. In addition to wanting a plaster cast in lieu of a band aid, they go on “holidays” and eat iced lollies. The twins also repeatedly let me know that if I want to jump in muddy puddles I must wear my boots. An excellent rule of thumb, thank you Peppa Pig. And, I know, I know, they shouldn’t watch television, yadda yadda….
I told Avery that I had no idea where the bear was and that she should start looking around. The next thing I saw was her bare tushy, tushy as she went off in search of the missing toy.
Owen was too busy laughing to listen to me. He thinks his PP is just SOOOO funny. And I guess, it is sort of funny looking body part. Avery was much too concerned with looking for her bear to pay any attention to me.
“Owen,” I continued. “This is your umm..” I wondered if it was better to just use the correct term off the bat. “It’s your. You know. And that’s where your pee pee comes out. It is private.”
“I found grandma’s bear!” Avery squealed revealing a small Winnie the Poo figurine.
“That’s from Grandma’s house” Owen scolded.
“You Goos, need to stop taking toys from Grandma’s house. You won’t have any toys left when you go and play” I said.
“I want to have a bear,” whined British Owen, and with his pants in place, he went running off.
I managed to trap Avery in a chair and began talking in my serious voice again as I tried to get her re-dressed. “Avery. Peanut. Mommy is talking to you.” She wriggled and giggled. “No Avery. Come on, where are your listening ears?” Avery happily waved the Winnie the Pooh at me as she turned her body into complete jello. How is it that little kids are able to do that? Go completely limp, and just slide around.
I tried to sit her up. “Avery, we are talking about your private parts. Your” I gulped “Your…..This…This is private.” At this point Avery giggled hysterically and slid off the chair, naked from the bottom down, into a heap on the floor. Replace the Winnie the Pooh she was clutching in her hand with a red solo cup, and she could have easily been mistaken for a very drunk sorority chick.
“A-VER-Y…” I said very slowly as I struggled to get her Frozen undies back on her tush. These are your private parts. You can’t just run around naked!” More giggling…even less muscle control. “Avery, c’mon. Where are your listening ears? AVERY! These parts are special. They are private…” Now she was back bending over backwards. “Avery…you…ugh….nevermind. Avery. You MUST wear pants. It’s a rule!”
At this point my daughter completely composed herself and shook the Winnie the Pooh in my face. “But, Mummy, HE’S not wearing any pants!”