For overwhelmed parents of four, we’ve been pretty social this weekend. The Browns came over Friday. Harrison and Grace love playing with Abigail and Dayton, and it was fun for Sarah and I to talk with Mr. and Mrs. Brown. It’s important that we have regular reminders that most people don’t discuss feedings and poop 24 hours a day.
Saturday night Grandma and Grandpa Labuta came over for dinner. When Sarah isn’t on maternity leave, Grandma Labuta is practically a part-time resident of this place so it was great to have them over. Grandma gave Harrison a bath (sort of retro for him — he’s a reluctant shower man nowadays), and Maestro Grandpa Dr. Labuta had a tea party with Grace. We also discussed Grace’s recent backward slide in potty training since the twins came along. Is it due to the presence of the twins, or Grandma’s absence? We don’t know, but Sarah suggesting sending Grace to Grandma’s for Potty Training Boot Camp.
One thing I’ve noticed about entertaining as a family of six is that people don’t stay very late. Sarah and I were never the all-night party type, but I think all possibility of such activity is gone until the twins move out. Later, in fact, because at that point Sarah and I will both be working multiple full-time jobs to pay all the college tuition (Note to self: Look into existence of Pokemon scholarships – if they exist, HJ’s got a full ride).
Today was the much anticipated visit of Aunt Amy. She fed . . . uh, I dunno, one of the twins. We got to have a little grown-up talk. But HJ and Grace could only be held off so long. So then it was out to the swing set, and a little time sitting under a tree in the back yard, and back in for some hide-and-seek and a (finally abbreviated) game of Sorry.
It was during the game of hide-and-seek that Aunt Amy really took one for the Orwig team. Hiding on the floor of our closet with both kids (from whom I have no idea at that point), someone inadvertently tugged on a wire dangling from a shelf. We have wires dangling all over the house, of course, but this one happened to be attached to a power adapter (“wall brick”) that wasn’t plugged in. So down it came, like something out of a Home Alone movie or a Road Runner cartoon, casting a rapidly growing shadow over Amy’s forehead until – THUNK! – it hit her in the forehead. She was okay, but she must have an impressive lump by now.
The real irony is that as a typical older brother, I might have tried to orchestrate exactly such an event when we were kids (although maybe with something more annoyance-sized than closed-head-injury sized). Here I am 40 years old and it happened by accident.
After a few hours, worn out and bruised, Amy headed home. Our entertaining was done for the weekend, but we found ourselves ready for more.