When the Twins were first born, a family friend who is a mother of three now-grown children once told me, “Now that you’re a parent of two, people are going to offer you help. A word of advice: let them.” Of course, the context for this was her generosity and my insisting it wasn’t necessary, but a lot has happened since then, and roughly a year later, I’m so on board. I don’t even glance at the mouths of gift horses.
I have no problem with strangers holding the door for me so I can shimmy the just-barely-narrow-enough double stroller through it. I willingly accept offers to cut ahead of one-item purchasers at grocery checkout in the event of Twin tantrums due to not letting them hold every single pack of gum on the register’s candy shelf. I truly appreciate the Babies “R” Us cashiers who are more than willing to accept a returned product even though it’s been opened and I don’t have the damned receipt because my son literally ate it–especially when this explanation is peppered with “Buddy, don’t poke that rattlesnake” and “Sweetie, where did you find that flame thrower? That’s dirty. Give it to Daddy.”
Thus, when my parents offered to take the Twins, my wife and me to Maui with them on vacation, I blurted “We accept!” and scrambled my wife and kids out to the car, gunning it down the road before my parents could change their minds or say they were joking.