Last night, while trying to get the chicks to sleep, my sister called. So, once again, I was forced to grow another set of arms. Kid 1 in bed? Check. Kid 2 in bed? Check. But alas, it was not meant to be that easy:
Hey Nan! What's up? Yea, I'm just putting the girls to bed. Jenna, get back in bed. I mean it! Yeah, I watched it. Get back in bed! Bo is so great. Clive Owen basically said that he'd be signing him on his label. Clairey,don't cry. I'm not yelling at her, just raising my voice. Get in bed. He sang his last song accapella. Nothing but the spotlight on him. Clairey, get in bed, it's okay. No music or anything...it was great. Jenna. In bed. NOW. Eh, she's alright. I think tonight was her last night. Claire, do you want your bink? Yeah, I think she'll be cut next. Where's Danny? I can't believe you missed it. Jenna, No, you don't have to pee. Get in bed.
The chicks FINALLY fell asleep, which left me and Nan to talk about important stuff, and our deepest and darkest wishes, like:
-No more war
-Good-smelling poop and farts
All of those are out there, but the way things are going, the last one is probably gonna happen before the other two. And that's not a bad thing. I mean, seriously, it's kinda out there, but isn't that a great thing to wish for? All those times when you have to squeeze your butt cheeks so tight, because you're in a public place and you don't want to let out a stinker. Now, if they smelled good, you could just let it go (and hope it was silent). Next thing you know, someone asks, "Is there a bakery around here? I smell cookies!" or, if you had the "floral" scented poo-air, you may hear someone say, "Wow, someone's wearing some nice perfume!"
Wouldn't life be so much easier?