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Life with the Twinadoes is always interesting. Their mommy is working full-time now that they are in school, so I meet their bus after school and bring them to my house for about an hour and a half until their daddy comes home. It sounded like a simple plan when we all agreed on it.
Then came the second day of school when they were to ride the bus home for the first time. I headed to the bus stop to meet them. My daughter had her phone all ready to record this major event. The bus pulled up; my daughter had the video on her phone recording.
The doors opened.
The driver called for “the twins.”
No one stepped up.
He called again.
No one stepped up.
Holding down my panic, I climbed onto the bus and checked the entire vehicle. The Twinadoes were not there. Of course, the minute the bus pulled away with the driver shaking his head because he swore they were on the bus, my son (their daddy) called, asking how everything went.
How does one tell a parent that their children are not where you thought they would be? He panicked (of course) and insisted they were missing. I insisted they were misplaced.
We called the school, couldn’t get through, so we hopped into my car and drove to the school where the secretary was attempting to locate several “misplaced” children.
It turned out they were in the car-rider line, waiting for me to pick them up there. Meanwhile, their daddy had already called me three times demanding an update and was about to put out an Amber alert.
The school located the boys and brought them to the office. They were complexly unfazed by the event. Daddy, however, mumbled something about a stiff drink right before he hung up the phone.
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