Bedtime

Bedtime.

It is 9pm, an hour and a half past the  official children should be under the covers, drifting off to sleep time. The light is bright in the girls room and Viola keeps crawling into the same spot on the wall. Hitting her head, wailing and then taking a two minute break before doing it all over again. Margaret is spinning around the room singing A BALLET SONG, while tossing the doll house furniture from their matchbox rooms into the dress up box. MOMMY THE DOLLIES ARE MOOOOOVVVVIIIINNNNGGGG! I sit on the bed and read a bed time story about porcupines and pancakes. My voice occasionally getting louder on words like SHARP QUILLS and MAPLE SYRUP. Because maybe just maybe someone will hear something. Riley walks into to the room while I nearly yell, PORCUPINES DON'T LIKE PANCAKES.

He sees the 11 month old mid wall collision. He is nearly struck by a flying miniature bedroom set. His wife is sitting on a pink princess bed yelling about porcupines. His eyes are wide with fear, yeah, I think it was fear.

Um, Meg? I think bed time might be getting too.....liberal.

He might be right.