Keep it Stupid, Simple.

Lately the girls have this obnoxious thing they do at bedtime: they race each other to the bathroom (screaming, "It's not a race, it's not a raaaace!!!"), narrowly avoid knocking the other down the stairs, gloat/weep over who beat whom, and then get into a fist fight over whose turn it is to stand on the stool to brush their teeth.

Cat fight!!

Ah, siblings. They build character. They'll thank us later for inflicting them with a sister. In the meantime, though, it's getting pretty screechy around here. One minute they'll be playing so beautifully together it brings a tear to your eye. The next minute they're pulling hair and scratching each other's eyes out over a tiny Strawberry Shortcake hair barrette. At least they aren't fighting over boys yet. Mike is secretly planning to move out when that happens, I just know it.

So last night they were pulling their women's prison riot routine in the bathroom, and Mike had just had enough of it. He called them back into their bedroom to read them the riot act. Then he made them hold hands and walk back into the bathroom together. I couldn't believe they actually did it! However, once they got there, they immediately started a round of Roshambo to see who got the step stool. So Mike called them back into the bedroom, and this time he made them hug each other all the way back to the bathroom! It was like watching a three-legged race. We were all cracking up by the time they made it to the sink.

And then, of course, they stayed up for about 45 minutes giggling and talking in their beds like best girlfriends after we turned the lights out. Typical.

***

Mike also kept talking and talking last night after the lights went out. As usual, he was fretting over the hundred things that churn around in his worried mind, so he decided to torture me with them as I was falling asleep.

Me: You're a pessimist. Go to sleep.

Mike: Well you married a pessimist. Anyway, you're a pessimist, too.

Me: No, you're a pessimist. I'm a cynic.

Mike: HA! True. How is it then that we're probably some of the happiest people we know? It doesn't make any sense.

Me: Nope, it doesn't make any sense.

Mike: It doesn't make any sense that we have two kids. It doesn't make any sense that you're a stay at home mom.

Me: Not making sense is really working out for us. Let's keep not making sense.

Mike: OK. Sounds good. Sounds like a plan.

Me: Good. Now leave me alone and go to sleep.

***

So there you go, hugging it out and senseless pessimism: the secrets to our success. In case you were wondering.