flesh-eating zombie babies

i was with the babies a few days ago, they had just awakened from their morning nap, and i was getting them ready for all of the exciting events of the day. lately, these exciting events have included the teething boy chewing on my face like a scene out of dead alive (which scared the poo out of me when i was eleven). he seems to be much more um, orally fixated than his sister, and i wonder if he'll grow up with to be a smoker. or a saxophone player.

after they wake up, i pick out their clothes and get them dressed, hooray, hooray. in abby's box i found this horrible denim jumper, with a gathered waist and everything. ugly as hell, and i promised both her and myself that i would never make her wear it. really, you should never trust anything i say, every again. i dressed poor little abby in the denim jumper from hell today, and for some reason they designed it like a clown suit. there's so much extra fabric around the middle that she has room for ten soiled diapers instead of her usual one-at-a-time, and the leg openings were too large, so whenever she tried to crawl her feet would get stuck inside. then she'd cry, and i'd have to come over and pull her feet back out of the jumper.

also, i told the babies' mom the other day that when i fed them hotdogs they smelled like Meaty McBabies, thinking that i was being so funny. i'm not that funny.