All that matters

Early this morning, as Carmen held onto my pant leg, standing with one foot inside Matt's brown shoe and wondering what to do with the other, David picked up one of my sandals, put it over my foot, and said, "Mahmee!"

Who, ME?

As Matt drove away this morning, Carmen signed car and mommy . . . but I think she meant Daddy. As in, Daddy is going in the car [to work].

Buoyed by their apparent progress in identifying Matt and I, after breakfast I asked the babes, "Where's Mommy?"

Carmen stared at the wall. David patted the floor. Oh.

But later, after a trip to hell (really, it was just Wal-Mart, but I remembered why I never shop there), when we pulled up to the driveway David said, "Home!" He doesn't know who is parents are, but at least he knows where he lives.

We'll see if we remember our new vocabulary tomorrow. Sometimes words are said and never return.

David, by the way, was not particularly impressed with Wal-Mart and all the noise, televisions, music, and wild children. In fact, he fell asleep somewhere after the arts and crafts department, his mouth still full of the pretzels I'd been feeding the babes to keep them from poking each others' eyes out. Carmen signed sleep and patted his head, then tried to lean on him and cuddle.

After crossing the store twice and finding a dirty disposable diaper in the laundry department (ew!), I didn't even find what I wanted at Wal-Mart. I was looking for Tide HE Free and a spill-proof bubble container. So in the afternoon, when the babes woke from their nap too early (Carmen's fault), I drove to Target. Target didn't have Tide HE Free, either. (Don't get me started on flower-stink-scented HE laundry detergents and my wimpy washing machine's laundry problems. And don't tell me that you like All Free and Clear, because I find it as effective no detergent at all. Just feel sorry for me. And maybe feel sorry for my washing machine. It does how many loads per day? Four? Five? Probably more than it was designed for. I can't wait for it to break.) Target did have a spill-proof bubble bucket, which David held outside of the stroller and dragged throughout the entire store. The plastic scraaaaaaped on the tile floor and then the bucket bump, bump, bumped over the carpet. He laughed and I of course laughed and laughed and probably looked half-wild and delusional, but that in particular is really not an uncommon event.