A day off during the week is usually a welcome escape from the grind of the work week that can drag on. Supermom had a doctor's appointment and needed time to work on her dissertation which is becoming as long and as tedious as the dead sea scrolls, so I was on duty trying not to mess up the routine of the house. Part of that routine is every Tuesday the children go to the library for story time. No problem. I herded everyone into the van and off we went. After a stop at the bank and post office we arrived at our destination for some stories, a craft and maybe some dancing under a hail of bubbles from the bubble machine. Henry and Oliver went into the stroller and Jack was at my side carrying, for about ten feet, the books we had to return. We took the elevator down, because who can navigate a flight of stairs with a double stroller, to the Childrens library, signed in and took our place around the semicircle. I glanced around the group at the other kids. Here it should be noted that our three boys are constantly running around bonking heads, falling down, wrestling, and generally doing little boy stuff all day. They get knocked around to say the least and as I looked at the other children I notice something. All their faces are devoid of scratches, bruises, cuts and all the stuff my kids have in spades. Even the other twins at story time, little girls, a couple of cutie pies, have not a scratch on them. I guess my kids are a little rougher than other kids, oh well it builds character. Moving on. As the group starts a killer rendition of Old McDonald had a farm, everything is going pretty well. Henry and Oliver are still in their stroller munching on pretzels and mumbling the words to the song as best they can and Jack is sitting in my lap criss cross applesauce. After about 17 seconds Henry expresses to me that he would like to be removed from the stroller by looking at me and screaming like a panther. I took them both out at which point they proceeded to go stand right in front of the sweet old librarian who is facilitating this little powwow, blocking every one's view of the book. I kindly asked them to return to our little area and they responded by going in opposite direction neither being towards myself and Jack who was starting to look around for some trouble to get into of his own. My first instinct was to stop Henry first who was headed for the emergency exit. Nothing would throw a monkey wrench into story time like a fire alarm 8 minutes in. I returned Henry to the confines of the stroller with much protest and headed for Oliver who had made his way to the other corner of the room and was standing in a rocking chair. Jack beat me there and being the policeman of his brothers, was about to grab Oliver and throw him to the ground. I grabbed Oliver probably saving his life in the process and returned him to his bonds in the stroller. At this point only 10 minutes has gone by, I'm sweating, my blood sugar is low and Jack is making his way into the main library without us. I ran after him brought, him back, bear hugged him and sat back down. How in God's name does my wife do this every week. Why does she do it!? Because she's better than me that's why. The next 4 minutes goes OK and then the twins start straining against their restraints and Jack says he wants to leave so I say to myself "we have bubble at home and to hell with that farmer's hat that they are going to glue on a little wooden stick...we out". We returned our books and skipped out early of a story time that no one was interested in and after our antics probably we would not be missed anytime soon. I'm sure my wife has this routine down but I would sooner shove bamboo chutes under my own finger nails before attempting this story time again but I'm a BadTwinDad. Like us on facebook at badtwindad and on Twitter @BadTwinDad.
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