This evening we left daycare particularly late because it was so gorgeous out that I let my little monsters run around with their friends. The girls led some companions on an extended chase through the tiny pathway between the shrubbery and the building wall, causing their loud but mostly-invisible voices to entertain my many coworkers who were leaving the building and sensibly going straight to their cars. G walked up and down the sidewalk in proud possession of my keys, which is a new problem because he's obsessed with them. He holds the key to my car in one hand and the big key to the lovely husband's car in the other and lets the extra keys dangle down the middle. He'll place them gently on the ground and switch car keys from one side to the other and pick them up and start walking again, a beatific smile on his wobbling-by face.
And then because I'm the grumbler who spoils all fun with words like "dinner time" and "bed time" and "let's go" all good things come to an end. The girls had their much protracted goodbyes with their friends and G let out his usual piercing screech of anger because I took away
Now, were this an E-in-the-middle month, she would employ any of her reasonable soothing techniques, such as holding G's hand, helping him reach his pacifier, singing him a song, playing "clap hands" with him, oh, anything. But-- it's not an E-in-the-middle month, is it?
L always thinks that G is hungry, and she happens not to be far wrong, but I try not to encourage her to use food as the first soothing technique. Of course, I'm busy driving the car and alllll the way in the front seat, so she usually ignores me. Today was no different. She had her backpack out and was rummaging through her bowls for leftover food.
Sgabetti! she announced. G wants sgabetti!
So she fed him a noodle, which she calls a string. She announced the success: G ate a sgabetti string! She fed him another. He reached for the bowl. And L decided that meant he didn't want the food, he wanted the container. So she poured her sgabetti all over the floor of the car.
G happily teethed on the rim of the bowl the whole way home. E moaned, because flying pasta strings had landed all over her. L lauded her brother-soothing accomplishments. And I, I drive the messiest car in all of small-children-dom.
But if we ever had a devastating engine failure on an isolated road, we totally would not starve.