Forever confused

We are leaving for the in-laws' this week with a dial-up connection and an old, slow computer. So The Boys will return when we do. But I had to share this before we leave:

For once, I was showered, dressed and wide awake when I took the boys out of their cribs at 6 a.m. yesterday morning. I grabbed Jonathan mid-bounce and placed him on the changing table. He was calm, which was odd. Jonathan usually contorts his entire body for even the quickest diaper change.
I brought him through the kitchen, grabbed his sippy full of milk and set him down with Beary on the living room floor.
Next, I grabbed Matthew, who had thrown himself down on the crib mattress, giggling and daring me to pick him up. He was good-natured...until I placed him on the changing pad. His body stiffened instantly. He arched his back and he twisted his hips with a wail.
I narrowed my eyes.
I held his head between my hands.
I focused hard on the vein across his nose.
It was thick.
I was changing Jonathan.
My husband and I had put Matthew and Jonathan to bed together the night before. We had put them in the wrong cribs with the wrong stuffed animals. The boys are 16 months old. You'd think we'd know better by now.
But still, it happens.