My girls are on a fairly strict routine. We deviate from the routine, and things get ugly, REALLY quickly. They are creatures of habit, and although they'd like to think they can change it up and be alright, that just isn't the case.
Last night we went to the inlaws for dinner. I had made the kids an appointment for haircuts after work. I planned on bringing them (and their jammies) to The Big House (as we like to call my inlaw's house) directly after. We got their around 5:30. I figured my mil would have the kids' food just about ready as she knows they eat early and are in bed by 7pm. Not so much.
The little people's food wasn't ready until 6:45 (7pm bedtime, remember??). I rolled my eyes but just dealt with it. They ate and I had them in jammies and entertained while we sat down to dinner around 7pm.
The Dude and I all but inhaled our food in an effort to salvage any part of their normal bedtime routine. I was ready to roll by 7:30. By this time, MIL and FIL had but "Bee Movie" on and were snuggled on the couch with the twins. Now, this kind of thing doesn't happen much, so I let them do that for a while as I thought it was sweet. Then Pickle's sleepyness hit him. Whoa nelly, time to go. FIL announces that he wants to keep the twins overnight.
You could have knocked me over with a feather. They never ask to keep the kids, EVER. Sure why not. He even offers to go into work late so he could have breakfast with them. At this point, I'm not completely convinced that I haven't fallen asleep on the couch and am dreaming this scenario, but I go with it.
The Dude and I pack up Pickles and head home.
9pm (two hours after normal bedtime). Phone rings.
"Hey it's Mom. Um, could you bring over some of the girls stuffed animals? I think they need them."
"They don't need them. Why are they awake?"
"Just bring the animals."
So the dude packs up a few animals and makes the drive (3 blocks) over. The twins are still awake and MIL is turning on a new movie. WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME LADY?!??!! GEEZ!
The Dude flips out on his parents. A slight overreaction, but hey, whatever. He goes to put the twins in the car and realizes he brought his truck...you know, the one without car seats.
Back in the house he goes. Plops them in bed and leaves.
*The next morning*
I pop over by 7:30 with their clothes, ready for battle. I walk into The Dude's old bedroom, which is now the grandkid's catch-all room. The bed is stripped. I know what this means. MIL will give the twins cup, after cup, after friggen cup of milk and juice. Surprise, surprise, they peed the bed.
After I wrestle their clothes on and get them in the car, the crying starts. It's not even 8am yet and I need a Xanax.
Calgon, take me away.
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