Ordeal
Jessie and Angelica slept the entire way home, resting against each other, their full collapse into each other inhibited only by the large, adult-sized car-seats both were firmly strapped into. Of course, getting these two into the car in the first place, after playtime (or "work" as they call it) and a fun trip to the store was quite an ordeal. With toddlers, though, most things are an ordeal. Changing the kids' diapers in my spacious back seat was an ordeal, as a toddler will often kick and protest that they "don't need diapers." Of course, they'll scream and shout this while an ugly yellow line of tattletale moisture runs down their calf. They'll also come up with other silly delusions about what they "don't need," as if a toddler knows in the slightest what they do or don't need. According to Jessie, she "doesn't need" the large, bulky pink diaper between her legs that she's used twice in her impromptu sleep on the way home from Ultra-Mart. Nor does she apparently need the milky bottle that she took one taste of and promptly finished before falling asleep. Angelica "doesn't need" a nap, despite having thrown the tantrum of a proper tired little one and passing out on the changing table, her little friend begging her to stay awake.
You get the gist. A baby is a notoriously poor judge of their own needs, hence why someone else must meet said needs. What's very funny is how the toddler must constantly remind you of their age, as if it changes how their words and actions are perceived. As if suddenly, once they remind you that they're 22 months old, suddenly you'll just put the diapers away, heck, even give them the car keys. "But I'm 22!" they'll shout, ad nauseum, until they're given a binky, a teddy bear, and a blankie to calm them down, which often works, as it debatably has here. Both girls have enjoyed some formula and a nap on the way home, meaning they'll probably be a bit groggy when their sisters come to see them. Cranky babies are never fun, but groggy ones tend to be very malleable and easy to work with. In a few moments, we'll see. Another fun thing about adopting new little ones is getting to know them. The little ones get so deep into their games of dress-up that they create whole little identities for themselves. Angelica was so dedicated to her game of "grown-up" that she even made cute little "license" cards for herself and her friend and put them in their adorable little purses. Seeing as how I wouldn't want them to get confused for real licenses by another little one, or Gods forbid, an unsuspecting, hapless babysitter. I chucked them in the bin, but not before admiring just how much detail the little ones put in their faux "identification."
Arriving at home, I open the rear door of my SUV and begin unbuckling Angelica, careful not to wake the sleeping girl. The baba's made her awfully sleepy, and it seems my wet little "accountant" doesn't want to wake up just yet, as she curls into my shoulder and buries her face in my blouse. I walk over to the other side of the car, opening the door to fetch Miss Jessie, who is trying to wake up desperately, letting out a pained yet tired whimper. "Yuuuuhhhh... nod oww Mommy..." the girl whines, hiding her face in her hands. So lost in dreamland, she doesn't even recognize her own Mommy. Entering my home, I put them down in a tall crib made just for them. Another baba, and they won't even remember "work" or "the store" or anything big like that. Just each other, and Mommy, and nothing else matters. Nothing ever matters to babies. Despite what an ordeal being a Mommy of so many littles can be, it's always worth it to know you're helping little ones find their way home. -Seraphina 🌞
