So we went to the park yesterday, which is nothing out of the ordinary for us, especially when it is 76 degrees and the sky is bright, screaming blue in the MIDDLE OF JANUARY. You just have to take your babies to the park, it is required by law.
Anyhow, there we were having a grand ole time, babies seated joyfully in their stroller, toddler in the sandbox, when along comes a nice looking family who wanted to comment on the twins. This, too, is nothing new. We learned very quickly, if you don't want to talk to people, don't go out with twins. Much like toting around a brand new puppy, they are people magnets, and you will get stopped.
Okay, so this family starts talking to us and cooing at the babies, and life is as it should be, until...(insert sound of record player needle scratching across an LP), their toddler, with at least a half a cup of snot hanging like glue under her nose, begins touching the toys hanging in our stroller. Surely the parents saw my jaw drop? Surely they noticed the immediate horror in my face? And surely they KNEW that their lovely child who was carrying some infectious disease was rubbing her little virus covered hands ALL OVER my innocent babies stroller?! NO???? What is this about? I have seen it time and time again and I simply can't figure it out. You know that these people must get it. Right? I mean, I'd be willing to bet that just a few months ago when this adorable toddler was an infant, these were the very same people carrying around a mini bottle of disinfectant attached to their key chain which they squirted on everything their precious little bundle of joy came into contact with. And yet, here they are watching this atrocity unfold while they engage me in meaningless conversation.
Oh, but then, in a sudden glimmer of hope, the father says (repeat in your whiniest voice), "Poopsie, princess, love muffin (or whatever her name was) please don't touch the babies toys". He then made a pathetic attempt to remove her hands. Ofcourse, the precious plague-carrying toddler, in utter defiance, yanks her hands away from her father and continues groping the toys, the stroller straps (yes the very straps that the babies chew on happily whenever they ride in the stroller), the seat cushion, the bars, EVERY STINKIN' INCH of the stroller with her germy little paws. I thought that this time they would surely hear my jaw as it hit the floor! But no, the father backed off in a vivid display of his utter spinelessness. I was even more disgusted now than before. Where do these people come from? SHE'S NOT EVEN TWO, for pete's sake! I can't tell you how badly I wanted to tell this man to turn his pants around to the front and take control of this situation, for the love of God. But I didn't. I actually said (if you can believe this), "Oh, it's okay". I think I even shocked myself when the words came out of my mouth. It's okay? It's okay?!! It's not okay! None of this is okay! But, I think at that point I knew that the stroller would have to be dismantled and scrubbed from top to bottom, so it didn't really matter anyway. The damage was done and I was going to have to add this pain in the rear job to my already ridiculously full life.
And to add to the chaos, Combi didn't think to make the stroller with removable straps so that I could just pull them off and throw them in the washing machine. I had to disinfect it all in my kitchen, with bowls of water and cleaner (no fun). So here I am, writing this while my now sparkling clean stroller sits drying in front of me. All the little disease germs are dead and my babies are safe again, until the next park dwelling typhoid toddler comes along...
Anyhow, there we were having a grand ole time, babies seated joyfully in their stroller, toddler in the sandbox, when along comes a nice looking family who wanted to comment on the twins. This, too, is nothing new. We learned very quickly, if you don't want to talk to people, don't go out with twins. Much like toting around a brand new puppy, they are people magnets, and you will get stopped.
Okay, so this family starts talking to us and cooing at the babies, and life is as it should be, until...(insert sound of record player needle scratching across an LP), their toddler, with at least a half a cup of snot hanging like glue under her nose, begins touching the toys hanging in our stroller. Surely the parents saw my jaw drop? Surely they noticed the immediate horror in my face? And surely they KNEW that their lovely child who was carrying some infectious disease was rubbing her little virus covered hands ALL OVER my innocent babies stroller?! NO???? What is this about? I have seen it time and time again and I simply can't figure it out. You know that these people must get it. Right? I mean, I'd be willing to bet that just a few months ago when this adorable toddler was an infant, these were the very same people carrying around a mini bottle of disinfectant attached to their key chain which they squirted on everything their precious little bundle of joy came into contact with. And yet, here they are watching this atrocity unfold while they engage me in meaningless conversation.
Oh, but then, in a sudden glimmer of hope, the father says (repeat in your whiniest voice), "Poopsie, princess, love muffin (or whatever her name was) please don't touch the babies toys". He then made a pathetic attempt to remove her hands. Ofcourse, the precious plague-carrying toddler, in utter defiance, yanks her hands away from her father and continues groping the toys, the stroller straps (yes the very straps that the babies chew on happily whenever they ride in the stroller), the seat cushion, the bars, EVERY STINKIN' INCH of the stroller with her germy little paws. I thought that this time they would surely hear my jaw as it hit the floor! But no, the father backed off in a vivid display of his utter spinelessness. I was even more disgusted now than before. Where do these people come from? SHE'S NOT EVEN TWO, for pete's sake! I can't tell you how badly I wanted to tell this man to turn his pants around to the front and take control of this situation, for the love of God. But I didn't. I actually said (if you can believe this), "Oh, it's okay". I think I even shocked myself when the words came out of my mouth. It's okay? It's okay?!! It's not okay! None of this is okay! But, I think at that point I knew that the stroller would have to be dismantled and scrubbed from top to bottom, so it didn't really matter anyway. The damage was done and I was going to have to add this pain in the rear job to my already ridiculously full life.
And to add to the chaos, Combi didn't think to make the stroller with removable straps so that I could just pull them off and throw them in the washing machine. I had to disinfect it all in my kitchen, with bowls of water and cleaner (no fun). So here I am, writing this while my now sparkling clean stroller sits drying in front of me. All the little disease germs are dead and my babies are safe again, until the next park dwelling typhoid toddler comes along...
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