Ten and Five Makes Fifteen

Last night June had volleyball...that's right, volleyball. She's finally found something for herself, and something that she had as a young woman, which is always the best kind of re-discovery, and now she gets to take a break each week and re-charge her batteries, which is something that she just never did. Zoey's been kickin' around for nearly five years and Maggles for almost a year and a half, and never once has June taken time for herself. Now she gets to bump, set, and spike her way to personal bliss at least one night out of seven.

While June was busy bruising her forearms and straining her quads, Daddy was in full on Def Con 5 mode...bathing both girls, rocking the pajamas enterprise, navigating snacks and some Christmas TV, and then bottling up some sleep juice for Mags, and shuffling her off to bed...oh, not before stripping Mags of a glow stick that Zo left on the floor that her little sister chomped on and I think scored a small taste of glow poison...awesome...Mom's gone 30 minutes and I poison our second born...but she really only tasted a pin drop of the stuff before Dad was flushing her full of fourteen billion gallons of water, which she willfully gulped just to wash the taste from her lips. After my guilt and panic subsided, and I assumed she was free from the clutches of death by poison, we snuck up for bed. A bottle and some hard to hear Bruce Springsteen lyrics later and Mags was asleep...ten minutes. Who's a champ? Both me and the Boss it seems. After a quick zip back downstairs and a snuggle session with Zoey and me, withDonald Duck as Scrooge, it was tooth brushing, pre-bed peeing, too tight tucking in, and Harry Potter reading as Zo wiggled her way to sleep....five minutes. Harry hadn't even gotten on the Quidditch pitch before she was snoring. Back to back championships for Dad it seems. By the time I got downstairs June was home and all was right with the universe...no poisoned toddlers...no screaming bedtime foibles...no tossing and turning can't fall asleep 'till 10:30 Zo...just silence...and sore forearms and strained quads...and one happy Mom.