That look. You know, the one you share with another person that says more than an entire conversation ever could. Mate and I have become quite proficient at sharing moments of quiet desperation, lately. What could possibly be bringing these on? Twins. Twins in the middle of their terrible twos. Wait, who am I kidding? We're not even in the middle, yet. We're only a quarter of the way through their second year. Oh, and to make things worse, people keep telling us that the twos aren't really the problem, three is when it gets really bad. WHAT?!?! Before, I get too dramatic, our girls are really very well behaved. However, there are these times when they decide to transform into creatures we'd rather not claim as our own. We've been doing our best to stay calm, ignore what we can, remind ourselves it's just a phase, etc. That helps, but we've decided it's time to take matters into our own hands. Desperate times call for desperate measures, so we finally introduced our girls to the time out chair. Well, in our case, the time out benches that my mom so wisely knew we'd need when she gifted them to us at our baby shower. Last weekend, Mate pulled them out, screwed the legs on and picked the official time out spot. Mia christened the bench when she refused to get out of the baby swing. Who knew two minutes of sitting, followed by our explanation of why she was there, followed by her apologizing and finished with hugs and kisses could be one of the cutest things, ever? Wasn't she supposed to be upset about this?
Fast forward a few days, and time out is no longer so much fun. Our children may outnumber us, but we're not going down without a fight.
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