Living with aliens

We live with aliens.

For the longest time we didn't live with any. It was just us and date nights and travel and leisure. Oh, and lots of movies and TV and books.

But then the first one landed on our doorstep a little over two years go, then the second just three months ago. We think they're from the same tribe, sent from afar to study how quickly human adults adapt to an ever-evolving alien culture.

First, there's the older one. The beautiful white-haired, blue-eyed, Boys from Brazil, half-baby half-toddler tantrum-ridden girl who loves tu-tu's, magic wands, balloons and umbrellas. She's learned more English of late, but still speaks in her native tongue when excited.

"Pee-bo, nee-nay!"

I have no idea what that means.

The younger one's just as beautiful, but her darker skin's already molted once, her dark birth hair is falling out lighter and she projectile vomits. She can't talk yet but she coos and drools.

A lot.

They both also don't know how to take care of their own, you know, "potty", and have to wear these protective garments called diapers, which is especially delightful since they have to be changed multiple times each day and they aren't always so protective.

And even though when they cry and shriek simultaneously the Earth's mantle cracks open like an egg squeezed in a vice, we've grown to love and care for them, and they for us.

Plus, we're getting them declawed just in time for Christmas!

Joy to the world!