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In response to a prior post or two about Cory’s…trips on the “tantrum train” (formerly known as the “crazy train”), a couple, three people, who knew Daddy like forty years ago or something and then only very well, ridiculously claim that Cory is so much like her Daddy, that the resemblance (not talking physical here) is so uncanny, that, well, the only thing to observe is that karma is a bi…um, an itch. Where do these crackpot people get this stuff?

A few days earlier the kids left their Crayon Tower on a sunny table. Three-quarters of it melted into that weird, impossibly white, waxy mush. A new one is ordered, and a day or so after Daddy’s smug childhood “friends” smirk about what went around coming back around, Cory and Daddy dump out all the colors and, you know, separate them: all the shades of green go here, all the orange-ish crayons placed together here, etc. Fisher shovels in spoonfuls of Cheerios mixed with dried cranberries, as he watches. Whew, that task’s done. Check it off. Crayon Tower ready for use.

The next morning, while Daddy is scrambling some eggs…

C: Daddy, I want to put the colors together with you.
D (not really listening): Uh huh.
C: So, we can just start over and do it.
D: Huh?
C (muffled noise): Daddy, come! Can you please sit next to me?
D (turning to see the Crayon Tower dumped over next to Cory’s placemat): Cory!
C: What?
D: Why did you dump that out?
C: Daddy, I just…
D: We just fixed that yesterday!
C: But, Daddy, I just want to put the colors together with you again.
D (reaching for a stern voice): Cory, now we have to do it all over again!
C: I know, Daddy! But, I just want to do it with you.
D (trying really hard to maintain some disapproving tone): Cory, that’s a lot of work, and we still have to eat breakfast, and…
C: But, we can just do it, Daddy.
D (sighing, terribly put upon): Cory, aargh! All right, I guess we are going to have to…
C (smiling): Come, Daddy! Sit in your chair.
D: Cory, I really…
C: I can do the pinks. You can do the purples, okay?
D (suppressing a smile as he moves the finished eggs to bowls for the two of them): All right, Cory, but it is really not a good idea to dump them out after we organize them. Then, we have to organize them again.
C: Here, here is a purple. I’m doing the pinks.

Fisher begins scooping forkfuls of eggs into his mouth, as he watches.

D (faux reluctance): You think that’s purple? You don’t think it should go with the blues? Remember there’s more room for the blues than for the purples?
C: There’s lotsa space for the pinks, right, Daddy?

Seriously, people. The tree’s, like, right here ————>
And the fruit’s, like, way, way over here ——————>

Spring Break Anxiety

Spring Break increases anxiety, at least initially, because the kids get dropped off at a new YMCA “after-care” facility. New teachers. New students. New toys. New campus.

C: What if we don’t know anyone there?
D: Then, you will make new friends, and you’ll know those new friends by tomorrow.
C: But, what if I miss you?
D: Well, if you miss me, you can…
F: Daddy, can you pick us up early?
D: Yes, how about I pick you up at 5?
F: 5 p.m.?
D: Yes.
F (shocked voice): P.m.?
D: Yes.
F: But, that’s in the nighttime. That’s too late! Can you please pick us up at 5 in the afternoon?
D (having planned a 4 p.m. pickup all along): Okay. Better yet, since you asked so nicely, why don’t I pick you up at 4?
F: Wait. 4 p.m. or 4 in the afternoon?
C: Fisher, p.m. means afternoon.
F: Huh?

An unheard discussion of “p.m.” v. “nighttime” v. “afternoon” begins while Daddy runs into the main Y office to confirm something. Upon return to the car, they have not been kidnapped and they have moved on from the time thing.

F/C (when the car door opens): Boo!
C (both laughing): Scared ya!
F: Daddy, we made a choice. If Cory misses you, Cory is going to er, eh, uh come to tell me that she misses you.
D: Uh huh.
C: And, if Fisher misses you, Fisher can come tell me that.
F: That’s a good choice, right, Daddy?
D: Yes, that’s a great choice.
C: But, Daddy, what if we both miss you?
D: Well, I don’t think you will both miss me at the same time, but if you do, maybe you can tell each other?
F: That’s a good idea! Cory! Cory! If we both miss Daddy, we can just go tell each other, okay, Cory?
C: Okay, Fisher.

Cory clings to Daddy at drop off. As Daddy talks to the staff about sunblock, though, Fisher keeps coming over to Cory and whispering, “I see a girl from Almond School, Cory!” “Cory, Cory! I think that’s Julia over there! So, it’s okay, right, Cory!” Jitters fade as Mr. Adam (known from Winter Break) comes over for high fives…and Mr. Patrick (known from their regular Y) swoops in for daps…and Bailey (Fisher’s classmate) arrives…and…smiles start to break through as Daddy moves to exit.

C: Daddy, are you going to pick us up at 4?
D: Yes.
F: 4 p.m., Daddy, right?
D: Yes, Fisher. 4 p.m.

Daddy hightails it before the p.m. v. afternoon v. nighttime thing starts up again. There is zero chance their “miss Daddy” plan gets implemented, but it’s good to have formed one. There are definite advantages to having twins (or more than one kid close in age, for that matter).

Buying Frozen

Notice of a mysterious $19.99 Amazon charge pops up via email…to be explained early this morning when Cory announces, as she moves from the bathroom back toward her room, “We’re watching Frozen in our room!” Apparently, Fisher has learned how not only to navigate, but also to purchase content for, his Kindle. Moments later, they come back and climb into the big bed to demonstrate their prowess…

F: Cory, parts of “Frozen” make me sad.
C: Me, too.
F: Like when Anna freezes. That just makes me so sad.
C: Does it make you want to cry?
F: Uh huh.

C: Fisher, when it comes to the part when Prince Hans is being mean to Anna, can you just skip that part? I don’t like that part.
F: Uh huh. (Both huddled over the Kindle.) This is fun!
C: But, I don’t like that part. Prince Hans is just mean. And that’s not nice.
F (not fully tracking): Uh huh. Mean is not nice.

Multiple Frozen theater visits. Frozen action figures. Frozen readers. Frozen-themed birthday parties. “Let It Go” on repeat. Frozen T-shirts. Frozen on YouTube. Frozen on iTunes. Now, Frozen on Amazon. Biggest animated money machine ever? This family has definitely done its part.

(Adding “investigate child locks on Kindle” to task list…)

Princess Cory

Five percent of the time it’s like raising myself. Five percent of the time it’s like raising my sister. Five percent of the time it’s like raising my mother. The rest of the time it’s like raising Cory.

P (after breakfast): Cory, take your bowl to the sink.
C: Daddy’ll do it.
P: No, Daddy won’t.
C: But, it’s Daddy’s restaurant.
P: No. Cory, take your bowl to the sink.

F (before heading to school): Cory, Cory, here is your gum.
C: Can you just hold that, Fisher?
F: Yes.
C (after putting on her Chapstick): There. Okay, Fisher, you can give me my gum now.
F: Here you go.

C (upon arriving at school, holding out her backpack): Daddy, here can you please hold this?
D: Um, no. You need to take your lunch out and put it in the bin. And hang your backpack up.
C: Daddy, can you please do it?
D: No.
C: But, I just want to go say hi to Dani.
D: You can say hi to Dani after you take care of your lunchbox and backpack. Scoot.
C: Aargh.

Apparently, she thinks it’s like raising Princess Cory one hundred percent of the time…

Change Is Certain

Daddy turns his back on the twins. For fifteen minutes, they were running around, tickling each other and having too much fun avoiding Papa and Daddy at the mention of changing into ski clothes. At first, it was cute. Then, it stopped being cute. Taking inspiration from Fisher’s shirt, when Daddy turns to face them again, his manner is distinctly more robotic.

F: Daddy…?
D (robotic voice): I am not your father.
C (hesitant): Yes, you are.
D: No, I am not. Your father has engaged the Change Machine. You will be changed you into your ski clothes.
F (bouncing and smiling): What, Daddy?
D (continued robot voice): I have been engaged by your father to change you. (Pause.) Only one thing is certain. (Pause.) After our time together this morning, you…will…be…changed.
C (smiling and moving to put the coffee table between her and Daddy): No, I won’t. I wanna…
D (grabbing Fisher’s arm suddenly): Change is certain.
F: Aaaaah!
D (manhandling him onto his back): Resistance is futile. Change is certain.
F: Cory, help! Cory!

Daddy grabs Fisher’s ski pants. Cory moves around the table and tries to help.

C: Fisher, grab my hand! Twin powers!
D (robotically turning head as they shoot twin powers from their fingers): Your magical powers are useless against a Change Machine. The probabilities have been calculated. Change is certain.
F (laughing): No! Cory, help!

Fisher begins kicking his legs to avoid the ski pants.

D: Boy child. Your resistance is futile. If you do not submit to change, you will experience bone-crushing force.
F (his feet stopping for a minute, Cory’s hand loosens on Daddy’s arm): What is bow-crushing force?
D: Bone-crushing force is force sufficient to crush bones. Resistance is futile. You will be changed.
F (kicking his legs): No!
D (grabbing his shin, moving thumb to trigger point on side of calf, applying slight pressure): Bone-crushing force will ensure submission. You…will…
F (laughing with Cory through slight pain): Ooooow!
D: …be…changed.

Force at a fraction of bone-crushing gets the ski pants over his legs. Laughing still, Fisher begins to struggle to avoid the top of the bib.

C (pulling on Daddy’s arm): You can’t do that to my brother!
D (moving a thumb quickly to Cory’s collar bone): Girl child. If you do not submit to this child’s change, you will experience bone-crushing force.
C (laughing and pulling shoulder to head): Daddy!
D: I am not your father. (Applying slightest pressure.) Bone-crushing force will be applied. The outcome is certain. He will be changed. After he has been changed, you will be changed. Change is certain.

Cory tries to shrink away from Daddy’s hand, giggling.

D (quickly grabbing Fisher’s pinky finger): Calculations have determined that this finger is unnecessary. Skiing can be accomplished without it. Bone-crushing force will be applied, if you do not submit to change.
F (laughing with an “ow” face): Daddy!
D: I am not your father. The outcome is certain. After our time together this morning, you will be changed.

A little twist here, a little pressure there, some more giggling, weak struggles, and the kids are in their ski clothes. Daddy took no pleasure in any small amount of pain that the Change Machine applied to those cute-past-annoying brats. Change was simply certain.