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I never thought Dad could catch my postpartum depression! Not to mention that all this palettes are about twenty months old, with the advent of the "drumstick".This is what enthusiastic kiddie-crooks call the state of being a deliciously witty, smiling, omnivorous toddler at one time a voluptuous, hysterical, low-key freak. Dackorszak! Well, once an era, let's see how long it lasts! My favorite child psychologist acquaintance hastily cooled down, according to him, his sixty-year-old father is still in this state.
Just do it!
For the most part, I thought that raising twins was no more, just a bit dense, than, say, a three-year-old sibling. (All in all, they consume the same amount of diapers, bathing water, pediatrician and neighbors, but there is a breathing time between the two of us, and at most we do not breathe, but say we have more breathing.) I think every parent makes the first surprise when he or she first asks his or her child not to smear the potato chips on the table, and then the delicious dafke puts another potato slice of potato in the tub. (Yes, style mixing, but who's the fool who grazes the seventy months old with an antique furniture table?) So, in our case, it looks like if I stripped my hair off, that I would immediately re-mount the diaper. not only that the young man shakes the body by himself, but also that the awkward baby Csenge is immediately involved in the new company, and by the time he is still in the human condition ( dental). The most weird thing about the whole thing is that they do it with an angelic smile on their face. (I swear that so many parliamentary directors could not be seen to handle these kinds of holy things so well.) When the closest Csenge in the middle of the village decided to get rid of one of her shoes, I was cunningly asking her to take the other one off. (Stop it, bastard, I'm gonna fuck you now!) But see, miraculous - or frightened abbot - the next moment I had two naked purdos, needless to say, smiling and wondering what to look like. Because they listen to me very well. (So far, the only positive I have had is that if your neighbors are completely immersed in Fubbry's show or the Fifth Bath, I dare to deny it immediately.) but I'm not tired of each other. For a long time, they watched me relatively gracefully, as I used to shoot grass in different gardens, and I also listened to legends of handball in my country. In order to make the scores more lively, I bought them tons of balls and two play lights. I envisioned an idyll in the Jehovah's Valley as we play ball or poke the pasture together. Unfortunately, it turned out that the gameplay is so tight that it rings annoying to Ring, but Zsoma doesn't like to throw a ball at the top. The result is conceivable: the hapsi with his head down, a kamikaze with a tank-carriage's determination, pushes the machine over to the chick, who, in turn, bombs his body with rubber balls.
I want it!
It is quite normal for a child to spit on wardrobes or boys. A friend of Béla once said to her own baby: Curse and pack! But in the case of twins, this fun is a bit fiercer, because you have to look at the fingertips of twenty baby fingers at a time, which implies boxing skills. The solution is the magnificent kid's music book of the Scandinavian leather suit, which, as we know, is easy to install and reliable. From the simple assembly, we omitted the moment when we tried to put the Swedish masterpieces in the presence of "I also want" claimants. We simultaneously grab the screwdriver by hand and leave it in the same direction as the clockwise ... It is plausible that a Scandinavian mystery might have caused more puzzles to Nomad. I'm not saying two dudes - with more and more lilac heads - worked with them with a little stubbornness, but he solved it. Not in the usual way, but we bought enough stock from the kid, so I mounted it again. It is also a beautiful moment when our seedlings start to unload their clothes themselves. Hurray, let's improve! I just sometimes don't understand why you need to insist that both shoes are in the same pant, and why it is important to put the right shoe on our left foot - help the god keep it, the top or the bottom served by Adalé: Eighteen minutes ago, Zsoma was trying to put on her twenty-thigh left-footed sandals on Csenge's twenty-one bib. And the little family, with their feet on the rides, looks at the seemingly impatient experiment with an open face.