This afternoon’s post calls for a super moody CameraMorte pic…

Took Mimi and Beenie to the gym this morning in hopes the post breakfast digestion would smooth over the separation anxiety Mimi apparently has. The last time we went was in the afternoon, after their nap, and snacks just weren’t enough to keep little Mimi from freaking out that there was no dinner in store for her, despite the fact that there is ALWAYS food for her bird-like metabolism. Beenie is more like me, she can go for longer periods of time without eating, but drinking is very important. Mimi needs to feed frequently, mass quantities, and have her drinks, too.

Anyway, figured a nice 10:30 a.m. yoga class would be well timed. Drop the girls off at the little playroom full of happy little children and books and tons of toys and music, skip off to the quiet, dark yoga class, and get my Namaste on. BUT NO. The minute Mimi figured out where we are she began her redface weeping, then Beenie got upset. So I said to the ladies in the daycare room, “Maybe they’ll quiet down if I just leave. Come get me if they don’t stop crying.” It could not be more than five minutes after I put down my yoga mat and did exactly two little stretches that I was summoned. “They are both hysterical,” the nice blond lady said. I jumped into my flip-flops, rolled up the yoga mat, ran into the babyland of misery and scooped up my snotty, wet faced, utterly traumatized children and we all went back to the car. Once they saw the car they both instantly quited. I drove down to the McDonald’s and got them some french fries, which I believe was appreciated as a good-will gesture. Don’t worry, this is the first time I’ve ever given them food from McDonald’s or any other fast food place. This was also their first trip through a drive-thru. In a way, it is a patriotic thing to have your first fast food be fries from MickeyDees, as they refer to themselves. I think I’m hearing the Star Spangled Banner humming in the background. “Oh beuuuuteeeful and spaaaycious fries….”


  1. And sometimes things will actually be completely random and not make sense. Sounds like a test to me. Your future psychic twins are doing some boundary testing. Do you still love them when you’re in the other room?

    I always consider Mickey Dees a good emergency call. Not many will actually admit that. And then again, it may not be such a good practice to go to the drive through every time I hear “911”

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