That is so untrue it is along the lines of Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy and whatever else parents typically lie to their children about.
First of all, today was not an especially nice day. Rocket Boy (my new name for him) had a 6:30 am meeting, so he was out the door before I even got up. I didn't sleep well last night, cats were jumping on and off the bed, etc., and I would have liked to sleep in. But of course I couldn't do that, I had to get up and change diapers and make breakfast. The boos and I went on our usual walk. I did see some quail, which is always a good thing. We got through the rest of the morning somehow. I sorted yesterday's mail, all the endless bills, and when I got to my paycheck stub I realized that they're STILL taking out a deduction for health insurance, even though that was supposed to have been cancelled on February 28 when Rocket Boy's insurance took over. We are very very lucky to have insurance, of course, but it is too bad that we have to have double coverage (which is actually illegal). The deduction is a third of my paycheck, so it is quite noticeable. So I sent an email to HR to sort that out, and then I got busy and made lunch.
Baby A was sent home from daycare yesterday because he has a runny nose and a cough, which of course they decided was swine flu, so we had to go to the doctor today because they won't let him back into daycare without a note. When getting ready to go somewhere with twins, there is often a moment when you realize that no matter what you do, you are going to be late, because there simply isn't enough time to do everything you need to do to get ready, times two. So we were a little late. The doctor (not our regular pediatrician) was nice. She said, when she saw the boys, "Oh, this is the Busy Age." An appropriate name for it. Baby B was especially busy today, he opened all the cabinet drawers in the examining room and started to remove medical supplies, he walked out of the room every time the door was opened, he took Baby A's clothes and strewed them around the room. Baby A, meanwhile, was screaming bloody murder because (I suppose) he thought he was going to have a shot. Baby A does not have swine flu (duh) and the doc wrote a note to that effect for the daycare center.
Then we went home and they took naps and I worked (for pay) for an hour, and then I did two loads of laundry and a load of dishes. Then I started to cook dinner and Rocket Boy came home and put up a baby gate, which of course caused a lot of wailing, and then we had dinner, except that the fancy apple-cheese pancakes that I'd made were apparently the worst food that Baby A had ever encountered, because he wouldn't eat one bite. Baby B didn't like them either. Then we all went for a walk and then we put the boos to bed, and that's when I said that every day is a nice day in Ridgecrest.
Maybe it is.
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