After a tough day at the factory today I went to the hospital to see my father (another story all together). After a brief visit with my father I went straight home.
And what a sight to greet me; partner sitting on the sofa with two crying, nay, screaming babies on the sofa and one very nervous looking father-in-law standing nearby at a loss as to what to do. The girls were simply over-tired and hungry (as always) because they refused to have a long enough nap this afternoon. And who, I implore you, who amongst us isn’t guilty of that small transgression? Anyway, partner is sitting there, basically at her wits end, about to come as unglued as the twins when I walk in the door with my head full of thoughts of my Dad and the stinking mess of a shit-hole hospital he is incarcerated in.
“TAKE A BABY!! NOW!!” is the command. I say sure I will, as soon as I wash my hands. I then trip over my blind dog who is perched near the front door in the slim hope that someone will lead her out and down the stairs so that she can relieve the pressure on her overextended bladder, ignore the cat that is screaming because she is also starving, get to the bathroom, wash my hands while singing happy birthday twice over. Dry my hands, stagger back to living-room, trip over blind dog one more time who is looking off into the future with her spooky white eyes, grab a baby, give that baby back to her mom, grab the other baby (you have to know who your material is going to work with before grabbing the attention of the audience) and raise her in my hands with my arms stretched straight over my head and say, “Whass wrong with my Pink Bean!”
Baby’s face splits into an ear to ear grin, tears stop and it is all good. Beautiful. Freak out beautiful.