Isn’t it funny how you forget about the particularly trying ages until you’re there again? And then it’s a big “ohhhhhhhhh crap, I remember this!”.
The twinlets are almost 18 months now. Discovering their independance, exploring the world around them and cheeky as anything. As I type this they’re discovering the joy of removing all the clothes from the big boys drawers. Awesome. But it’s keeping them quiet.
We’ve taken to leaving the portacot up in the lounge room as a baby corral, a place to put the baby you’ve just gotten out of mischief while getting the other one. The system was devised after a particularly delightful round robin of pull a climbing baby off a table, distract them with something else, turn around to find other baby climbing said table, pull them off…repeat times infinity.
Retraining ourselves and the big 2 to close every single door as you leave a room. Open bathroom doors lead to miscellaneous objects in the toilet (Lewis laid claim to doing a poo that was in fact a Little People person), Thommo’s 48 strong chocolate bunny army marauded, drawers and cupboards emptied. And let’s not forget their fascination with baby wipes. Emptying the entire packet, leaving a trail of them around the house or in Sebastian’s case, gathering all the wipes his little arms can hold and cuddling them. Why cuddle a teddy when you too can cuddle an armful of wet wipes, yeah!
They seem to take particular delight in getting into mischief and it’s terribly hard to maintain a firm tone when you’re trying not to giggle at the big cheeky grins or the attempts to quickly scamper away.
This stage is exhausting and delightful and frustrating and heart warming all at once. So if you happen to pay a visit to Chez Thommo, please ignore the dust and piles of washing, I’ve been busy chasing babies.