Reverse Christmas. BWCA. Houseguests. Lunacy.

Every night when the girls finally give up the good fight and succumb to sleep, we go through the routine of scurrying around and scooping up the wide-strewn collection of toys. Blocks. Dolls. Frogs. Jagged plastic tchotchkes that pierce the foot when you step on them as you race around, leaving you bloodied and foul-mouthed.

I don't know exactly why, but I can't relax until the toys are picked up. I'm not an obsessive person, but with this there can be no exception. Those damn toys have to be put away, or the rest of the night isn't quite right.

The thought struck me tonight that every night is like a reverse Christmas. As soon as the girls have thrashed into whatever impossible posture they'll sleep in for the night, we do the opposite of what the good Kris Kringle would do. We put toys away instead of bringing them out.

That's it. There's no more to that thought, it just struck me as slightly humorous. Slightly.

Tonight we have our friend Krysta visiting from Colorado with her awesome daughter Tennyson. Tennyson is one of the most friendly, social 9 months old ever, so everybody got along quite smoothly, except when Lily would ocassionally come perilously close to crushing her under some heavy toy in her grasp.

So, I got some video and put it up on youtube. I was far too lazy to try and edit it for content, so it's 6 minutes long, and I have to admit: nothing terribly exciting happens. I'm going to put it up anyway. If you follow this blog and would geek on the prospect of watching 6 minutes of playtime with our family and Krysta and Tennyson, then have at it. If not, you might just want to skip to the 3:30 mark, where Lily attacks the camera like a mindless zombie.

Also: tonight will be the last post until Sunday at the earliest, but possibly Monday. The Gelseses are headed up to the very fringe of the BWCA with the Stalker clan for some car camping. We're excited. The kids are excited. The cat has steadfastly agreed to keep the house moth free for the duration. So while I feel bad for missing a couple days, I'll make it up with a full report on the girls' first outdoorly overnight expedition. God help us all.

Day one hundred and fifty one.

ps. Let me mention here that Abby's little freak-out tantrum that happens in the first minute is something she does when her rash is bothering her. It's just a small taste of why I'm so very very very sick of that damn rash.