Kids

On Monday, the AT&T guy came by to hook up a new wireless unit inside the house. The girls were running around the house. I had been folding clothes, so our bedroom door was open. The guy, a very nice young man, had drawn us into a neverending discussion about tattoos. I was keeping one eye on him, giving him what attention I could, and the other eye was on the girls and their shenanigans.

They ran into the open bedroom, a brief moment of silence, and the door shuts.

Crap.

Finally, the guy wrapped it up and headed on out with a wave.

I bolted toward the bedroom door and turned the knob.

Locked.

Whaaaaaaaat?? How do they DO this?? It's not a push lock, it's the kind you have to turn. The kind they mastered when they locked me out of the house a few weeks ago.

Thankfully, I had my bangs held back with a bobby pin. I straightened it and voila. Thought you fooled me, didn't you, suckahs.

I don't see them, the suckahs, anywhere. Closet? Nope. Under the bed? Nope. In the bathroom? Yes.

There they are, stripped down to their diapers. Drawers opened everywhere.

Piper Lee in the garden tub, combing her hair and singing a song.

My Oral-B toothbrush in the hands of Harper, who is swishing it around in the toilet.

Yay.

Also, I realize that saying "a very nice young man" makes me sound like a 97 year old.