Thursday, February 14, 2008

From The Cereal Aisle With Love

Girls, allow me to wish you Happy Valentine's Day while admitting that romance is not really my strong suit. In the past I've been known to gift wrap the groceries. My theory is that anyone can smile at a diamond necklace. Only someone who really loves you is happy with a box of Cap'n Crunch.

It wasn't always this way. Back when, I was more prone to the GRAND GESTURE. Painfully collected mix tapes, hand drawn pictures, and poetry that relied heavily on things like my exploding heart, the endless ocean, and beautiful birds, which sometimes exploded and fell in the ocean. Several restraining orders later I figured out that no matter what they say, girls would rather date that jerk who forgets their birthday than the sweet kid who makes a cake in their likeness and brings it to their door at precisely the moment they were born, even if that's 2:36 in the morning. Since then I'm been wrapping the groceries.

But tonight we skipped both Hallmark and the grocery store and gave ourselves the gift of a peek at you two. Thanks to the magic of 3D ultrasound I think we can make some predictions about your futures. Nixon, I have to be honest, you're getting the shaft in there. For seven months you've had your sister's butt or feet in your face. If you find yourself talking to a shrink about deep seated resentment someday, give that some thought. Ripley, I'm not sure you belong to us. From what I can see you're the progeny of a Chinese acrobatics team. As you know, I've always been suspicious of the conception timeline. The fact that you're flexible enough to sit around with your leg over your head and your knee in your eye socket while I can barely touch my knees or my eye socket only deepens these suspicions.

That said, you both look amazing. Your mom talked about how anxious it made her to see you on the outside. Personally, I'm really growing attached to you where you are. With all this technology we can look in anytime, but you can't make messes or ask to borrow the car. It's like having hamsters. Flexible hamsters. That sit on one another's heads.

Still, staring at your fuzzy images I admit that I felt my heart swell to the size of an ocean, soar like a bird, and then explode. I've just got smart enough not to write those kind of things down.

Novel - pg1
Dunking - I'll measure this weekend
French - Je t'aime


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3 comments:

Erin said...

Mr. Kyle - your beautiful wife informed a bunch of us on the twin forum of your blog. It is hilarious and I look forward to reading more. Thanks for sharing!

mr. kyle said...

Many thanks. Good to have you.

The Unlikely Heroine said...

Greetings, Mr. Kyle!

I was sent your way by 10/10, who said I would enjoy your blog immensely. After having read the first three entries on this page, I must now subscribe and add you to my blogroll posthaste.

Cheers!
The Unlikely Heroine

 

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