What the L

When the twins were aged two and potty training, I booked myself some time “working at home”.  A colleague rang me with a query and as I answered her I must have sounded somewhat distracted.  The reason:

Perran had momentarily lost control and weed on the kitchen floor.  He was so frustrated with himself that he began bawling loudly.  Carenza, eager to see what the matter was, came racing round the corner, skidded in the wee and fell flat on her back in the puddle.  She too began to cry at the top of her lungs. 

“What’s that noise?” asked  Dr Edwards on the other end of the phone.

“Nothing.  Er, I really have to go now.”

Then there was potty-training on a trip to Edinburgh Zoo, when Carenza, feeling warm and secure on Daddy’s knee, had a little wee.  It was a bit chilly, but eventually, the breeze dried Nigel’s trouser leg.  Then she got back on his knee and did it again.

And potty training at York Railway Museum.  They each liked to have their own potty, so we felt a bit conspicuous carrying two of them, ill-disguised in plastic bags.

But let me say now that potty training twins was as nothing compared to teaching them to drive. 

So it is with huge relief that I can announce the fact that they both passed their driving tests today.

I wanted to take a cheesy celebration shot of them both but they have each gone out with a friend – for a walk.

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