When I went to bed last night, these guys were asleep. I know because I stayed out on the couch with a direct line into their room, watching them until they stopped moving—because the last time I left them alone for any amount of time, they tore their closet doors off the hinges and tried to squeeze into their 5-month-old brother’s shorts.
And yet, when I flicked on their light this morning (they were still sleeping) to help them from their baby-gated room (yes, still baby-gated, even though they’re 3. Because TODDLER TWINS.), I found this. Drawings. All over their walls. There were “people” and “ducks” and a “sun” and “mountains” and all sorts of indistinguishable shapes that surely meant something deep and profound.
“Who did this?” I said. I wasn’t even mad. Just really curious and a little stupefied (and maybe impressed) as to how (1) they did it without our knowing and (2) they did it in the dark.
“Not me,” Twin 1 said.
“Not me,” Twin 2 said.
Of course.
“That’s weird,” I said. “Who did it then?”
They both shrugged. They didn’t look at each other. They didn’t even blink. “I don’t know,” Twin 1 said.
“I don’t know, either,” Twin 2 said.
Yeah, I bet.
“So a neanderthal from prehistoric times found a portal into our house and drew all over your walls while we were sleeping?”
“Yeah,” they said at the exact same time.
Because that makes WAY more sense than twins drawing on walls. They would never do that. No way.
I have to hand it to them—they’re a united front.
They spent the morning washing walls. I spent the morning searching for that dang piece of chalk. I never did find it.
So today, while they’re “napping,” another caveman will probably find a portal and redo all his drawings. Oh, well. At least chalk isn’t permanent.
Now, if I could just find that Black Sharpie that went missing this afternoon…
