“Twins! Wow! That’s incredible,” he said, shaking his head.

‘Incredible’ that I carried two babies at once or ‘incredible’ that I survived the last two years?

“Jonah, time to get in the bath.”

“No, I’m working,” he says matter-of-factly.

And yesterday Benjamin said, “The airplane is broken. I’m fixing the airplane. I’m using a screwdriver. Mama, it’s dangerous for you.”

Jonah brought me one of his matchbox cars and said, “It’s not working. It needs a battery.”

Benjamin held a stuffed animal, pretending it was a young friend of his, “You’re fighting with the toy. I need to take it from you. You want some snack, Baby Kaila? Yes? Say pwease!” (everything Benjamin encounters – whether alive or not – is offered a snack)

Jonah was whining after his nap. When I walked into the room he stopped whining, stood up, and said, “I’m sad.”

On a walk Benjamin handed Jonah a native specimen, saying, “Jonah, here’s a flower. Not for eating. For smell. Okay, Jonah? Okay?”

In the car Benjamin asked me if we were going to see his friend Harper. “No,” I said, “I don’t think Harper will be there.”

“No,” said Benjamin. “No, Mama, say ‘maybe.'’”

When his older friend left the service to go to Children’s Church, Jonah had a total meltdown during the offertory: “Julia! Julia! Nooooooooo!”

One night Benjamin asked Jonathan, “To-morning you go to your office?”

During a prayer in church Jonah had a panic attack when he trapped his foot in the seat: “MINE FOOT! MINE FOOT!”

The boys are under strict orders not to touch the kitchen knives. But I gave them each a plastic knife along with their play-dough today. Before Benjamin even touched his, he looked up and asked, “This knife is not dangerous? Mmm hmmm?” (he’s currently into “mmm hmmm,” “I forgot,” and starting sentences with “actually” even though he has no idea what it means)

And now when I ask either boy a question he does not know they answer to, the response is an immediate “Um.” That’s it. Just “um.”

I looked at the size tag to be sure - turns out one of his old overalls somehow got mixed in with his current clothing.  At 29 months, Jonah still fits into size 6 month overalls.

All that is to say that I make an effort not to slander or gossip here in Internet-ville, 15% because I’m not supposed to and 85% because they might read it. Jonathan calls me on what he refers to as “being mean” quite a bit. For example, as previously mentioned we went to a social engagement at my Distant Arch-Nemesis’ house recently. I actually enjoyed it as I met a very interesting English woman with whom I spent most of the evening talking. On our way home Jonathan pointed out that even though I had been dreading the evening, it seemed like I had a good time.

“Yes, but did you notice that it was a party for her, but everyone there was either a co-worker of his or a neighbor of theirs. No one there was her friend. Which makes sense, really, as she is one of the most miserable and unpleasant people I’ve ever met.” Jonathan rolled his eyes, but what I said was not slander. I was stating the facts.

And when I tell him that as I was on my way out the door to go to church, his Mom looked me up and down and told me I look like a nun…. that is not gossip. Because it actually happened. Just like that.

So when I tell you that in response to one of my rare political posts, a reader wrote, “I know people who've died because they're simply not wealthy enough to buy it. That doesn't strike me as freedom,” that’s not slanderous – unbelievably he did actually assert that as an argument for nationalized health care.

His “assertion” – or should I say - “emotional appeal defying all logic” is what I refer to as the “Johnny Can’t Read Argument.” At a previous job, an executive justified his attempt to money launder by saying, “Johnny is in middle school and doesn’t know how to read. If we process the money this way, more of it will be available to help him.”

Please. Leave the loaded emotional plea out of it.

Next, someone’s going to tell me that not voting for Obama just because he’s black is racist, while voting for him just because he’s black is not...

As Jonathan drove me to the airport, he diagrammed the Atlanta terminal where I’d be landing (though I’ve been there several times), showing me the quickest route out once I disembark. Which is understandable since several years ago he was at the Atlanta airport twice a week for a year. (yeah, try getting pregnant with that schedule)

But his insistence that I call him the moment I landed – and then again once I climbed aboard the shuttle heading north – and then again once I left the shuttle and waited for Bob and Heidi to pick me up - was really a bit much.

“Dude, you do remember I’ve done quite a lot of traveling by myself – most of it international, right? I’ve been all over first, second, and third world countries across four continents… I can handle the Atlanta airport.”

And Jonathan replied, “But all that traveling was before the boys… now you’re much less disposable.”