“Mommy, look what we’re doing!” Owen called from the backseat of the car. I sighed and took a deep breath. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good, and wasn’t worth turning around and risk crashing the car. Since the twins had started talking, they have both gotten very good at not only telling on each other, but also tattling on themselves. Usually, when someone informs me that I’d better pay attention to one or both of them, the crimes have ranged from running around without pants, to pouring milk on the kitchen floor, to standing on top of a table. Petty larceny. The twins also are well aware that when I’m driving I have a very limited reach. They think it is absolutely hysterical to watch me swap around from the front seat and grab at the air in front of them. For a while, the twins thought it was SUPER funny to spit out milk and water from their cups. I have since stopped giving them milk in the car and only a limited amount of water. I’ve realized they won’t die of dehydration because they were not given any water during our 10 minute drive up to Target. I’ve also cut out messy snacks on short car trips after “the incident.” I had been driving on the Tri-state when Owen screamed like he was hit with shrapnel. I reached my hand to the back of my neck and felt something gooey. As I glanced in the rearview mirror, all I could see was dark brown goo dripping from every surface of the back seat. Avery, who had been extremely pissed off because Owen was “looking at her”, exploded one of those pouches full of pureed fruit. The scene reminded me of Pulp Fiction when Travolta accidentally shoots Marvin in the backseat of the car. Except instead of blood and guts oozing from my car’s ceiling, it was toddler applesauce. I screamed “WHAT….THE….FUHELL???” proud of myself that I didn’t use the F word. Owen sobbed that his window was all messy and Avery sat in her carseat softly crying, stunned at what she had done. Seeing that there was nowhere to pull over, I threw a used napkin at Owen and told Avery “DON’T…SPEAK” as I steered the car towards our destination. I telephoned “the Wolf” and requested that cleaning supplies be on hand when we arrived. When I pulled up “the Wolf” (aka my mother) had a huge roll of paper towels and a bottle of windex sitting on the front walk.
The applesauce mess was such that completely defunking my car of the rotting vinegar smell required a $300.00 auto detailing. Since then, except for the rare package of fruit snacks, eating in the car has been off limits.
So, now we’re driving along and Owen is still saying “look at what we’re doing” in his sing song voice. They didn’t have any food or so I could rule out that they were purposely dumping and/or exploding things in the back seat. They were also strapped into their car seats so standing up or getting their pants off was out of the question. (Unless they’d somehow figured out how to Houdini themselves out of their clothes while in a five point harness).
I pulled up to a stoplight, sighed, and slowly turned around so I could get a better look at the shenanigans. And that’s when I saw my adorable twins holding hands sweetly in the backseat of the car.
