I can’t deal with escaping toddlers. I’m in the middle of cooking rice, rice baby
DOUBLE TROUBLE FOR A FIRST-TIME DAD OF TWINS
THE day’s work finishes when we place the twins inside their socially acceptable prisons. We listen to them complain, chat or sing for half an hour on the baby monitor before they fall asleep.
This was never going to last forever, so the other night, we locked them up, and I retired to the kitchen to prepare a mushroom risotto, while Victoria carried out more menial tasks.
They were both complaining but Thomas seemed especially unhappy with the situation, mainly because he wanted to get his hands on the light switches.
Suddenly, there was a sound not dissimilar to a 20kg weight being dropped on the floor from cot height, a brief delay, a loud cry and the sound of Victoria’s footsteps hurriedly running upstairs.
Unfortunately, the risotto was underway, and I’d just ladled in some stock There was no way this was sticking to the pan, so I let Victoria take charge of the situation, while I gently stirred.
Obviously, Thomas had launched himself over the bars with very little thought about his landing, although Victoria said he was unhurt. We placed them under surveillance and hoped he’d learned a lesson.
This experience had taught him something. Unfortunately it was to find somewhere soft to land – Emma’s cot.
Emma was furious with being forced to share a cell and screamed loudly.
I’d added some grated parmesan and didn’t want that clumping together, so Victoria ran upstairs to deal with the fugitive.
Plan B was to separate the cots and surround them with pillows and beanbags.
We watched on the monitor as Thomas simply jumped onto the cushioning, confident he wouldn’t hurt himself.
Plan C was to push the beds back together and remove the cushions from around them.
We then watched Emma climb into his bed, steal his monkey and climb back into hers, revealing herself to be the real villain of the evening.
By this point, the rice in the risotto was comfortably travelling past al dente to soggy and I was ready to add the basil.
This nonsense had to stop before my culinary efforts were ruined, so the decision was taken to just let them get on with it, and hope it ended soon.
Thankfully, it did with Thomas climbing into Emma’s bed and the both of them falling asleep, but there were other concerns.
Was this the end of our post-7pm freedom, where we could drink alcohol, watch TV and not have to keep toddlers out of cupboards.
Whatever the answer, it looked like the risotto days were gone and it was going to be a long time before we hit the salad days.