Little m Long a

Stop it, Naer.  (That’s how Zella refers to her twin brother, Zander.  Naer.  It’s pronounced something like NAIR but with more of an emphasis on an e sound as opposed to what the short i does to air.  Nay-er with less of a y.  Try it.  Naer.  Naer.  Oh forget it.  By the time you figure out how she does it she will have mastered the next phonetic phase in her development and the word will be lost forever.)

Stop it Naer.

I wan dat.  I WAN daaatt!!

Naer, no!!!  (Crying ensues and more arguing.  More words are exchanged but quite honestly it’s hard enough to decipher when they are speaking without tears and whining.)

There’s no real point to the argument.  Is there ever really when two year olds are involved?  I suppose my point in relaying is that the scene above is repeated daily at least three or four times, often more but seldom less.  It would seem that I am forever engaged in a struggle to keep the peace around here.  A task made more difficult by the fact that I find myself having to yell so loud to be heard above their screaming that my message becomes clearly–incongruous when considered with the tone of my delivery.

But every once in a while, when the planets align just so, there is peace.  Be it ever so fleeting, there is peace.  I was looking for a picture I had taken several months back–(I didn’t have to look too hard for I’ve got pictures on my camera from January that I’ve yet to download.  Maybe you remember that post.)  Anyway, I stumbled upon this picture that will surely be displayed prominently at family gatherings, first dates, prom nights, graduation nights, weddings and all manner of noteworthy occasions for years to come.

Yeah.  Every once in a while there is peace.

As instructed, we dutifully file into the hallway outside of the preschool classroom doors.  We wait.  Patiently.  At the appointed time, seldom before, the teacher opens the doors to the classroom and one by one ushers the energetic preschoolers into the waiting and loving arms of parents, grandparents, brothers and sisters.  It’s a pilgrimage of which we partake twice a week, the twins and I.  They are scarcely able to contain their excitement having been separated from Zia for a grand sum of three hours and fifteen minutes.  Ever had a puppy that would piddle itself with glee each time you walked into the door?  It’s just like that minus the tails of course, and maybe the slobber and piddle.   Wait.  I am talking about the twins.  Yes, there’s plenty of slobber and I’m quite sure piddle.  (Thank God for Pampers!)

Today, the families of Zia’s classmates were privy to a rare glimpse of the World of Ed.  You see, my mother-in-law (I’ve mentioned her before–she’s a saint!) works for the church where my kids attend school.  Her office is right next door to Zia’s classroom and immediately prior to Zia’s dismissal had stepped into the hallway.  Zella, upon seeing her grandma shouted, “MEMAAA!!!” and began running towards her arms outstretched in anticipation of the welcoming hug surely waiting at the end of her journey.  And the crowded hallway collectively said, “Aww.”

Moments later Zia appeared in the doorway and Zander took off shouting, “EEEYAA!” arms outstretched in anticipation of the welcoming hug surely waiting at the the end of his journey.  As he neared, Zia turned ever so slightly as if preparing herself for the collision and……

elbowed Zander in the throat.  And the crowded hallway collectively said, “Oooh!!”