container Lillian had shown her and then changed the yellow baby, Ivy. It went a little more smoothly the second time.
Caroline looked at her watch. Seven A.M. "I don't suppose you guys would like to go back to sleep for about an hour," she suggested. "This is my summer vacation."
But the babies just giggled again, thumping their cribs. One of them, the yellow one, got up on her hands and knees and bounced. Then she fell forward, bumped her chin, and began to cry. The pink baby cried sympathetically.
Caroline pulled on her bathrobe in disgust. "I just want you to know that I plan to remain childless, myself," she told the twins. They weren't paying any attention. They were wailing.
One at a time she carried them to the kitchen and deposited them unceremoniously into the big playpen. "Orange juice," she said aloud. That was the second thing on the babies' morning schedule, right after the dry diapers. In the refrigerator were two small bottles of orange juice that Lillian had prepared the night before. One had a pink plastic cap and one had a yellow plastic cap.
"It doesn't really matter," Lillian had explained to Caroline, "because the juice is just the same. But it's a good idea just to stay in the yellow/pink habit."
"Here," Caroline said. She poked the yellow bottle into the yellow baby's mouth and waited while Ivy reached up and got a grip on it. Then she did the same with the pink bottle and the pink baby. The crying silenced. The bottles were like plugs.
Now that the babies were quiet, absorbed with their orange juice, Caroline flipped the switch on the TV and sank onto the couch near the playpen. Half asleep, she stared at some ancient cartoons and wondered if she would remember how to make the babies' oatmeal. The little pink bowl and the little yellow bowl were set out on the counter, waiting.
Poochie appeared, glanced at the twins in the playpen and then at Caroline, hitched up his drooping pajama pants, and went to the cupboard. Carefully he took out a bowl and a box of cereal. Then he went to the drawer for a spoon, to the cupboard for the sugar bowl, and to the refrigerator for a bottle of milk. He arranged everything precisely on the floor in front of the TV, plopped down, and put it all together for his breakfast.
Well, thought Caroline, at least I don't have to feed him, too.
She was beginning to feel more awake. In a minute she would start to make the babies' oatmeal.
Their bottles were empty. Holly was whacking Ivy across the back with her empty bottle. Ivy wasn't paying any attention. She was trying to poke the nipple of hers into her ear.
"How are you doing, Pooch? You all ready for baseball practice?" Caroline asked.
Poochie grunted. He stirred his cereal and took another bite. "I hate baseball," he said with his mouth full. He stared at the cartoon on the television. "Roadrunner goes over the cliff," he said, "and lands on a train that's going past. I've seen this one a million times."
"Me too. But it's all news on the other channels." Caroline began to warm some milk in a shallow pan on the stove. She added the oatmeal and stirred until it was the right consistency. Then she lifted the pink baby into the pink highchair and the yellow baby into the yellow highchair.
"Yuck!" Caroline said. "They're wet again. I just changed them!"
"Yeah," Poochie said matter-of-factly. "They're always wet."
The babies began to bang the trays of their highchairs with their fists. Caroline used the pink spoon to put oatmeal from the pink bowl into the mouth of the pink twin. Then she switched over and used the yellow spoon to put oatmeal from the yellow bowl into the mouth of the yellow twin. When she looked back at the first highchair, she saw that there was oatmeal in the baby's sparse dark hair.
"Hey!" she said. "How did that happen? I put it into her mouth and now it's in her hair!"
Poochie glanced over. "You have to hold their hands while you feed them," he told her. "Or else they grab it out of
Caroline looked at her watch. Seven A.M. "I don't suppose you guys would like to go back to sleep for about an hour," she suggested. "This is my summer vacation."
But the babies just giggled again, thumping their cribs. One of them, the yellow one, got up on her hands and knees and bounced. Then she fell forward, bumped her chin, and began to cry. The pink baby cried sympathetically.
Caroline pulled on her bathrobe in disgust. "I just want you to know that I plan to remain childless, myself," she told the twins. They weren't paying any attention. They were wailing.
One at a time she carried them to the kitchen and deposited them unceremoniously into the big playpen. "Orange juice," she said aloud. That was the second thing on the babies' morning schedule, right after the dry diapers. In the refrigerator were two small bottles of orange juice that Lillian had prepared the night before. One had a pink plastic cap and one had a yellow plastic cap.
"It doesn't really matter," Lillian had explained to Caroline, "because the juice is just the same. But it's a good idea just to stay in the yellow/pink habit."
"Here," Caroline said. She poked the yellow bottle into the yellow baby's mouth and waited while Ivy reached up and got a grip on it. Then she did the same with the pink bottle and the pink baby. The crying silenced. The bottles were like plugs.
Now that the babies were quiet, absorbed with their orange juice, Caroline flipped the switch on the TV and sank onto the couch near the playpen. Half asleep, she stared at some ancient cartoons and wondered if she would remember how to make the babies' oatmeal. The little pink bowl and the little yellow bowl were set out on the counter, waiting.
Poochie appeared, glanced at the twins in the playpen and then at Caroline, hitched up his drooping pajama pants, and went to the cupboard. Carefully he took out a bowl and a box of cereal. Then he went to the drawer for a spoon, to the cupboard for the sugar bowl, and to the refrigerator for a bottle of milk. He arranged everything precisely on the floor in front of the TV, plopped down, and put it all together for his breakfast.
Well, thought Caroline, at least I don't have to feed him, too.
She was beginning to feel more awake. In a minute she would start to make the babies' oatmeal.
Their bottles were empty. Holly was whacking Ivy across the back with her empty bottle. Ivy wasn't paying any attention. She was trying to poke the nipple of hers into her ear.
"How are you doing, Pooch? You all ready for baseball practice?" Caroline asked.
Poochie grunted. He stirred his cereal and took another bite. "I hate baseball," he said with his mouth full. He stared at the cartoon on the television. "Roadrunner goes over the cliff," he said, "and lands on a train that's going past. I've seen this one a million times."
"Me too. But it's all news on the other channels." Caroline began to warm some milk in a shallow pan on the stove. She added the oatmeal and stirred until it was the right consistency. Then she lifted the pink baby into the pink highchair and the yellow baby into the yellow highchair.
"Yuck!" Caroline said. "They're wet again. I just changed them!"
"Yeah," Poochie said matter-of-factly. "They're always wet."
The babies began to bang the trays of their highchairs with their fists. Caroline used the pink spoon to put oatmeal from the pink bowl into the mouth of the pink twin. Then she switched over and used the yellow spoon to put oatmeal from the yellow bowl into the mouth of the yellow twin. When she looked back at the first highchair, she saw that there was oatmeal in the baby's sparse dark hair.
"Hey!" she said. "How did that happen? I put it into her mouth and now it's in her hair!"
Poochie glanced over. "You have to hold their hands while you feed them," he told her. "Or else they grab it out of
Similar Books
Full Disclosure
Sean Michael
Undertow (The UnderCity Chronicles)
S. M. Stelmack
A Highlander Never Surrenders
Paula Quinn
Hockey Dreams
David Adams Richards
Call Me Amy
Marcia Strykowski
The Spacetime Pool
Catherine Asaro
All That Was Happy
M.M. Wilshire
Aztec Century
Christopher Evans
Only 04 - Only Love
authors_sort