The Perfect Storm

It's the first time I've sat down since I got home from work around 5 today. It feels so good to sit down, to stop moving, that I never want to get up... Tell me why the stars have aligned to create the perfect storm every night now when it's bedtime for the boys?

Post-bath, pre-PJs, Will runs around like a screaming banshee, in some sort of hyper-speed mode where he does everything FAST. Isn't he supposed to be tired after a long day of playing and a slowly shrinking afternoon nap?

And then the potty. His last ditch effort to stay up later is to use the bathroom. What do I say? "Just go in your diaper, OK??!" Don't think that's pediatrician recommended at this stage of potty training... And the talking, and singing, and all-around annoying noise making. It wouldn't be a huge deal if he didn't share a room with Ian. But all that noise sometimes wakes Ian, and then it's trouble with a capital T in the Thompson household.

Ian is now old enough to protest going to bed, and protest he doth. Whatever the doc says about his weight, his lungs are certainly healthy. And if Will is up making noise, little bro wants in on the action.

So, I sit here, praying the silence lasts so I can read a few more chapters from last month's book club selection. That is, if I can keep my eyes open long enough...