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alex is walking. aside from the fact that in perambulation little man most closely resembles the orangutan that starred opposite eastwood in the the Every Which Way But Loose series, everything is good. and good except for we now have doubled the number of people padding about the house at any given hour.

really not a problem if you remove the intimate requirements of marriage. yeah, that IS what i'm talking about. what marty and i have found is that with one child you get creative and with two you simply get caught. while i could totally get into the details of it all i think discovering them on your own is a pretty bristling exercise, one you could liken to having to think quick on laughing gas.

take for instance, your mind is trained on what a 35-pound, three-year-old sounds like coming down the hall. with the second child, your ears are no longer calibrated for a 20-pound, 1-year-old (think silent tampon) and will deceive you every time. and, i'm convinced that racing to conclude a marital moment isn't worth the physical maladies which seem to come with racing to conclusion.

fortunately none of our stories yet compare to a friend of ours who shared how she and her husband successfully completed a coital tryst with two awake children in the home. (quite the coup, i assure you) just as their sighing bodies were coming to a rest, collapsing into one another in mutual abandon, their eyes sprang wide when from the corner of their bedroom they heard a small voice timidly say the words ... "apple juice?"

my first thought: at least he wasn't standing on the edge of the bed and tapping the top person on the shoulder asking for said refill.

my second thought: i'm so getting tapped on the shoulder in the future.




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