Well, the girls just had their first official F*#@ with the babysitter caper. The poor woman. We were down at Alastair's parents' house for thanksgiving, and left the girls with a sitter on Saturday night so we could all go out to dinner. This babysitter, who we'll call Dotty, is actually Alastair's parents' dog sitter, not a babysitter. But she's sat with the girls before, after they were in bed, and it's always worked out just fine.
We figured it would be the same this time: we'd put the girls to bed, we'd be right down the road at the restaurant and come right back afterward -- no problemo. And anyway, you figure if someone can handle two boisterous golden retrievers, they can handle a couple of sweet, innocent toddlers, right? (Cue menacing music...)
Problem is, last time Dotty sat for the girls, they were still sleeping in portacribs. This time, they were in a twin bed and an air mattress on the floor. And -- most problematic of all -- they could open the door by themselves. So, even before the night of the babysitter caper, bedtimes hadn't been going particularly well. The girls were all wired and excited to be at grandma and grandpa's house to begin with, then additionally wired about this new sleeping arrangement. When they discovered that they had the power to come and go from the room at will -- well. Forget about it.
Still, we hoped that if we could get them down to bed on Saturday night before we left, everything would be OK, and all the sitter would have to do would be, literally, sit. We tried our best. We started early. We got them bathed and PJ-ed and storied up and tucked in, all with plenty of time to spare. But they popped right up out of their beds and into the hall. So I ushered them back in, told them very firmly that it was time to stay in bed, no more talking, etc.
Then, for good measure, I stood outside holding the door closed, so they wouldn't be able to open it. And this is what I overheard:
Clio: Are you going to get out of your bed, Elsa?
Elsa: Yeah. I am.
Clio: Can you open the door?
Elsa: Ya, OK. (Tries to open the door. Mom tries to keep from giggling.) I can't open it.
Clio: Here, let me. (Tries to open door.) I can't. You do it.
Elsa: (Tries again) I think it's locked!
Clio: Oh.
Elsa: Mommy! Poopie! I got poopie!!
Can you believe it?? My darling angels, blatantly scheming together. I can't decide which one is worse: Clio, the mastermind of the plot, trying to get her taller and more manually dextrous sister to do the dirty work, or Elsa, who totally plays the fake poopie card in an attempt to get me to spring her. Unbelievable.
Anyway, I gave them one last stern talking-to, through the door, and after a few minutes they seemed to be settled down for real, and we left. But a half hour later we got a call from a distraught Dotty saying that the girls were both awake, they wouldn't stay in their beds and that, in fact, they'd emptied an entire box of tissues into the new baby doll crib they'd just been given.
Apparently they'd also gotten into a bit of a spat because Elsa tried to take the tissues out at some point, and Clio wanted them to stay in, because the baby was cold. (I mean, duh, Elsa, why else would you dump the contents of an entire box of tissues onto a baby doll?)
We suggested to Dotty that she sit outside their bedroom door for awhile, until they settled down, but I think the girls just waited until she'd gone downstairs to pop out of bed again. Dotty may be good with dogs, but faced with our little Pinky and The Brain, she was definitely in over her head. In the end, the girls didn't get to sleep until about 9:30, shortly before we got home. And, as we learned the next morning, it was three boxes of tissues, not just one.
I tried to talk to them about in the morning; how they weren't very nice or cooperative with Dotty, and how they got out of bed when they weren't supposed to. Clio added, "yeah, and we got out again and again and again and again!" Smart kid.
So, we were looking forward to getting back home to our routine, normalcy, and a bedroom door that the girls can't open on their own. But their time at their grandparents' house mastering their breaking and exiting skills served them well: tonight, a few minutes after we'd put them to bed and closed the door, we heard their little voices and giggles in the hall.
I went immediately to our stash of babyproofing equipment in the basement, where I was pretty sure we had one of those doorknob cover things -- the kind that make it nearly impossible for most adults to open doors, let alone three-year-olds. And we did have one. And now it is on the inside doorknob of the girls' bedroom. And while it did make me feel a little wicked stepmother-ish to "lock" the girls in their room in this manner, when I heard the same routine playing itself out again (Clio telling Elsa to open the door, Elsa complying with gusto, failing, and then starting in with the mommy-i-gotta-go-potty-ing while Clio giggled in the background) I knew I'd done the right thing. (Unless there's some safety reason why this isn't OK?)
So, yes, we are really in for it with these two. But as exasperating as this behavior is, I can't help smiling about it. It's an endearingly innocent sort of naughtiness.
And so, in the spirit of twin mischief, we (my husband and I, that is) are currently giving away a FREE DOWNLOAD of "Twins are Twice as Fun" -- one of the tracks on Alastair's new kids' album, A Cow Says Moock. At the beginning of the song, if you listen carefully, you'll hear the diabolical giggles of Misses Elsa and Clio. Download it here, and enjoy. (And, of course, feel free to buy the whole album if you're so inclined!)
