In Support of My Last Post. . .

I wrote my last post at the end of the work day last Wednesday, walked home, and Dada and Tsega waved me in as I approached the front of the house. Hi Tsega! Hi Dada! . . . Tsega, don't look so excited.

I had to laugh and take a picture because there, on the grass, was the pile of the day from the boys and it was almost exactly as I described, except for an added hanger and no bottles (the socks are even there!).

The sad part is, it rained last night and four of their best baby books were still outside. :(

While I'm here, let me describe what takes place when dada and mama come home from work. Dada works Mon-Fri, 8-5. I work Mon-Wed, 7-6. We work at the same place up the dirt road. A nanny comes to the house the days I work. She is Ugandan, what a find in our smallish community. Anyway, there should be happy squeals, smiles, and hugs when we walk through the door, right? It's starts out like this for about 30 seconds and next thing everybody is crying their heads off, laying flat on the ground face down in total despair, and generally going nuts. I always say, love shouldn't hurt, boys! They get overworked, overstimulated, and I think can't handle the competition for attention. The best thing to do in these cases, lay flat on the carpet and let babies ride the mama (or papa) train. Then everybody's at eye-level, everybody can get a piece of you, and everybody gets love, attention, and fun. Also, we can't come home for lunch anymore, it's too upsetting for everybody to leave again, and we just throw a kink into the day for our poor nanny (whom our children love, BTW). And I remember the floppy baby days when our comings and goings didn't seem to spark a single brain cell in those baby minds. It's good to be loved, but like I said, love shouldn't hurt boys. Chill ;).

One last P.S. . . for new readers and one commenter, Sira and Bereket are identical
and Tsega is the fraternal triplet.

Two eggs, both fertilize, one splits, and voila, triplets such as these. Pretty special.