Preschool Playoffs

Preschool raises the bar in twin competition and parenting finesse.

preschool, parenting
      “Look what I made, Mama.” 
Yasmine  pulled on my pant leg.  
        I hastily examined the craft, unable to   provide proper admiration for it as Yasmine had chosen to show me this right as Laken entered the room. 
     Before I was able to pocket the item in question…Laken spotted it.
            They say a picture is worth a thousand words.  This was repeatedly confirmed the year the daycare decided to separate the twins.
 Two different preschool teachers + two year old twin girls = certain disaster.

Hence my daily exit from daycare morphed into a domino effect of psychotic meltdowns.  Starting with one twin, then the other and inevitably…mine.
            Once the item in question was identified, Laken rushed for it with the ‘pretense’ of wanting to examine it. 
         Drawing upon prior experience, I knew this was a farce.  In reality she’d determined Yasmine had gotten to do something far more fun than she had that day and had produced a lovely memento. 
      Therefore the only logical solution for a two year old was… destroy it.
            If I entertained the notion that they actually wanted to see it and humored them, it either resulted in ear-piercing wailing—at the unfairness of life for missing out on this activity, or demands to immediately commence in creating their own replica or thirdly…acquiring it to maim and/or obliterate.
      Thus resulting in certain rage from the maker, while parents and teachers would watch with haughty amusement at my inability to raise civilized children.
         Drawing upon my psychiatric nursing skills, I’d attempted various methods to remedy this situation in a congenial manner.  I started with educating the girls on appreciating each other. 
         Discarding this tactic, I moved onto discouraging injuring each other’s possessions…or bodies—or at least not in public. 
        I quickly resorted to promises… bribery…then threats until there was only one solution. 
            I’m certain word of our daily spectacle spread. I envisioned parents lining up to enjoy the show, if only to affirm their superior parenting skills and be able to put their own children’s meltdowns in perspective by saying
“Well it could be worse, just look at those twins.”
Therefore I drew upon my limited football knowledge to assist me in my hasty departure; clutching one twin under each arm in a football hold and rushing the exit. Anyone blocking the evacuation risked being tackled or struck by four flailing legs and arms on either side of me. 
I felt no remorse for those simpletons. There was plenty of forewarning of our approach as twin earsplitting screams could be heard throughout both floors of the facility.  
(This is an understatement, as I was certain Yasmine’s future included that of opera singing.)
 Hence providing ample time to pull up a chair, get your popcorn and— move the heck out of the running field! 
So, you can tell a two year old twin the grass may not be greener.  Then she’ll make sure of it…with a lawnmower.

If you enjoyed reading this post, check out my other TwinTalk posts- soon to be available in a book! 

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