Hubs was in Buffalo last night, leaving me to fend for the kiddos alone. After a supremely nutritious dinner of no-name mac & cheese and easter chocolate I took them upstairs for an abbreviated bath. (It was supposed to be a loooonnng bath, during which I would flit in and out of the room while simultaneously cleaning up and doing laundry, but they splashed half the water out of the tub onto the floor and I had a temper tantrum.)
I had heaved Bad's futon mattress down the stairs and set up a big bed in front of the telly so that we could have a cuddly sleepover downstairs, but my monsters were more inclined to use it as a landing pad, jumping repeatedly off the sofa. After admonishing them repeatedly to "just lie down already!" I threatened to make them sleep upstairs in my bed.
"NO MOMMY! NO! We want to have a sleepover!"
"But nobody is being good!" They both immediately fell into bed beside me, and Bad climbed on my chest, looked into my eyes and said, both earnest and straight-faced, "Yes Mommy! YOU is bein' good."
From there the night dissolved into laughter, and tickles, and cuddles, and sleep.