Rewind to five minutes ago when I told her we were going for a walk. My twin girls, they love walks, and I love changes of pace. Told the mother, who promptly picked up her twin, my twin, our twin, and declared "she doesn't want to go outside" because "look she's whining". Twin's eye contact told me she was whining for access to mom, not because of some phantom aversion to walks. I told twin's mother that allowing her to skip the walk now, that continuing to cuddle with her now, would teach her baby, our baby, that whining is a viable method of communication. I told her that this would increase whining in the future. I told her I was going to take her on a walk one way or another, even if it was a short walk, even if I had to carry her the whole time. Even if I had to carry her in my socks.
I picked her up and bolted before mother could protest more. "Amanda," my coworker said, "Your shoes!" by which she meant, "Where the fuck are they??"
"I know," I said, striding into the sunset, baby girl supported against my chest. Because sometimes you need to walk around the neighborhood barefoot to make your point. Sometimes that's what your broken, lovely babies need.