I consider myself the champion.

The showdown with the Pecan Street Preschool Mafia was sort of a disappointment. There were no cat fights, no hair pulling, not even a dirty look! What the hell people?! I mean seriously! I had prepped for the fight to end all fights. I kept my flip flops (despite several of you suggesting I go with spike heels, he he he) and simply instructed The Dude to make sure and wear his steel toe boots. I figured, if need be, I could slip into those bad boys and inflict massive damage. All for nothing.
I got ONE half smile from the Alpha Mom and that was it! She avoided me like I had the plague swine flu. Had she found my blog? Did she know I intended to throw down? Was she scared??!! That's what I'll tell myself, and my grandchildren in 30 yrs. I'll tell 'em that Granny looked into the eyes of perfectly manicured evil and won.

Too much?? Hush, it's my story.

We enjoyed a lovely little picnic with the Twinkies. I tried to snap a picture of them together, both smiling. I did manage to get Alpha Mom in one of the shots.

Twin A, stop drinking! I'm trying to take a picture! Twin B, what's with the "deer caught in headlights" look?

Ah, yes, finally, a half-ish, kinda weird smile from Twin A. WAIT! Twin B got bored and looked away! Crap. I give up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This weekend I managed to get TWO sprained ankles. The twins weren't even home all weekend (brace yourself, The Dude's parents took them to their beach house. I know, right?)! How does that happen?? I'll tell you how. One sleepy, kinda sick Mommy wearing her fashionable "new Mu-Mu" trying to navigate the stairs at 3am to fetch one sick little Pickles, THAT'S how.