For as much as I wasn't ready for the sibling UFC championships over a Playmobil Fire Engine and a scarf I got at a thrift store for 25 cents, I was completely ready - almost giddy with anticipation - for them to be super sneaky sibling cohorts in crimes against mothers and clean houses.
In my opinion, I'd much rather wipe up a couple of gallons of bath water off the bathroom floor while my children laugh hysterically than pull them off each other and soothe bite marks and scratches.
But the best part, other than saving money on bandaids, is hearing the whole entire super secret plot go down. Because no matter who sly they try to be, they're still a bumbly toddler and a loud-mouthed preschooler who couldn't speak in a whisper or walk quietly through a room if you paid them with 400 jelly beans. Their "inside voices" are still around a 60 decibel level and even a 95 year old woman without her ear horn could repeat what they are saying verbatim.
Of course, they could probably get away with their naugtiness, which as of late has included unraveling an entire container of dental floss all over the floor, playing water table with the bathroom sink, and emptying the entire contents of our kitchen junk drawer into a box. But because they think that their antics are the funniest thing since the last time they made a big freakin' mess, I can't help but be drawn to the complete, eery silence quickly followed by hearty guffaws and high pitched screeches.
I suppose tossing a $3 container of floss, drying soaking wet tile, and reorganizing my junk drawer is a small price to pay for them to actually get along.
If only I could get them to find cleaning up to be equally as entertaining.