Take it to the Mattresses

"It's time to take it to the mattresses"
--Famous line from The Godfather

"Hey little boy, what you got there?"
--Excerpted from the song The Mollusk, by Ween

Pretty deep quotes, huh?

Well, He, the little boy[s] that is, got . . . New floor mattresses for those sleepless nights, lazy days, and recent streams of grandmas (plus "Poppy"--go ahead and laugh readers, that's what my dad wants to be called by his grand children, don't ask me why!); just like the old days when we all slept together in the living room on our old floor mattresses. Weird to think about now. BTW, I believed we burned the old ones; flat as pancakes they became with one too many spit-up stains. (Jerry always hated sour milk baby breath, whereas I inhaled it deeply and lovingly, like I would with fresh hops.)


While I think my babies are smart and successful (Big Ivy League, here we come!), they strike me as still so babyish and immature compared to other kids their age, and, well, different somehow--unique. Like when they were playing among unfamiliar kids the other day at a playground; after awhile I noticed the other kids stopped playing, and kind of stood there silently watching my children play. Suddenly my children were the entertainment (and since triplets are used to getting stared at, it didn't phase them). Or maybe they just have a soothing effect on other kids? But why, I don't know. Like I said, my children just seem different compared to the typical, skinny, somewhat undernourished, blond Kansan toddler. And although they may not fit the typical profile, it's not because they are dark or their mama's white. Although we are not a mecca for diversity (this is rural Kansas, remember), black children and biracial families are very common here. I can't hardly go to town without bumping into black children and their white moms.

And the funny thing is, Tsega wants to touch all the strange children he sees. But kids don't usually like strange little hands grabbing at them and usually shrink from or skirt his touch. Or cry. Tsega-mega fixed on a baby at that playground, maybe one year old and very mobile, and wrapped his arms around him for a very sweet loving hug and wouldn't let go. The baby started crying so I had to tear T away, which caused loud angry protests from Tsega and as soon as I let him go again, he bee-lined straight for the baby again for the same big hug and I had to tear him apart again and suffer through more Tsega cries. Of course us mothers thought it was hilarious and we told Tsega how sweet he is.

Anyway, back to the little baby and new mattresses thing again. I took this video below of the boys wrestling and nestling on our new cushions and both my mom and I laughed at how Sira looks so little-baby pulling on his feet. He's the one on the left in the blue stripes. Matching brother Bereket also looks very baby, while fraternal brother Tsega sometimes startles me with his big-kid looks (yet his maturity level is on a par with his bros). Out in public people like to guess at their ages, and they are never close. A typical comment might be, how old are they, 12 months? (Me: No, almost two!). One lady recently couldn't believe Bereket and Sira were skipping around because, she said, they look too little to be walking!

I'll take sweet baby any day and I'm in no hurry to grow these guys up; yet I won't stand in their way either.

Make video montages at www.OneTrueMedia.com