The twins are going through a tetchy phase at the moment, which essentially means that if they are both awake they are indulging in relay crying. The way this game works is that one, usually twin one, starts his familiar whine of 'Mmm, mmm, mmm'. This sharply increases in volume and frequency until it develops into a full blown shriek, at which point I usually give in and bundle him up into a cuddle, before my eardrums burst.
Blissful silence reigns until twin two notices that there are mummy cuddles going and he isn't getting his ration, at which point his tiny bottom lip sticks out in an irresistibly cute pout, then his cheeks start to flame red and his mouth opens to emit a roar of disapproval that almost matches his brother for volume and far outweighs it when it comes to garnering sympathy - he just sounds so pathetically hard done by and who can resist that lip?
So I pop twin one down, in order to pick up and comfort twin two. Big mistake, HUGE. The moment his body hits the bouncy chair or baby mat I have chosen as his resting place he is rigid with rage, and his little mouth becomes a gaping maw of noise at the injustice of having his quality time cut short, just so mummy can shut his brother up.
So I move onto plan B, which involves trying to pacify two cross babies on one inadequate lap without bursting into tears myself. I joggle one up and down while vainly trying to hold the other in the crook of my arm without dropping him. A solution that leaves no one happy, the babies know they are being short changed by this uncomfortable arrangement, and I am twisted up like a contortionist with the complaints of my two baby sons ringing in my ears.
Time to crack the glass open on the emergency plan, which entails a soporific cocktail of Cbeebies and early milk. Sod the routine, by this point I will do anything for a bit of peace and quiet.
I am hoping this exhausting phase will end once they finally learn to entertain themselves by sitting up and rolling over, but as yet, despite much vocal effort, there are no signs of the little ones stepping up to the next developmental level. So for now I shall be forced to continue to worship at the alter of Mr Tumble and friends.