Attack of the Super Twins

Our home has become the site of a battlefield.  The counters are littered with an army of bottles that bravely went out into battle and came back war torn.  The sink is filled with their remains, and containers are all over with their body parts, awaiting to be put back together again.  The family room has become a gathering of pacifiers, blankets, rattles, and burp cloths attempting to develop a battle plan for the next wave of troops.  The bouncers sit at attention, ready to deliver the command of Operation Babies Awake...Again.  The pump is under cover on the desk, disguised in the ghillie suit of a tote bag.  The barracks haven't yet been occupied, but the nuclear waste dump I expected the diaper pail to become hasn't happened.  Instead, that's the laundry hamper.  Massive blow outs have claimed the north hamper bin, and the south is slowly succumbing.  The underpants gnomes have discovered our collection of diapers and have quickly been depleting our resources.  Our bedroom has become a temporary headquarters for the launch of new attacks.  Occasionally a temporary cease fire is set up and this is where these moments have been captured.

(She gets this pose from her daddy)

 

And just when we think we've won a battle...

 

BAZINGA!

Laith also rolled over from his tummy to back for the first time last week!  We captured his fourth go on video.  His face cracks me up.  He constantly grunts and groans as though every movement is a giant effort.  And in the final frame of this video, I notice my battle frenzied floor.  There's a Where's Waldo of items...blankets, clothes, a remote, toys, a bottle, and a sweet baby boy who surprised his parents with his monumental accomplishment.