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The Practice Kids

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I am the proud mother of 18-month-old twins. They are male orange tabbys, one short hair named Winston and one long hair, Egon. Yes, they are named after the Ghostbusters. (My husband’s idea.)

I consider them my practice kids. I’m already pretty good at it, considering I have pulled over mid-road-trip to clean puke out of my backseat on several occasions. I now instinctively ask for extra napkins at the drive-thru every time we take them on the road.

They get into things, break things, make messes with various bodily fluids, and I love them more each day. Even though they have chewed on my most expensive pair of shoes, one look and I’m putty in their paws.

They cry when I leave in the morning, and are ready to cuddle when I come home. Winston is sleeping on my feet while I write this.

I know having human children will be different, but I will always consider the day we brought them home to be the first time Corey and I became a family.

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