Clara and Winton share a room. Ever since our trip to the Poconos in June (honestly, it started way before then) they've been keeping each other awake in the evenings.
"Clarrr, Wan talk?" asks Winton
[Maniacal laugh] responds Clara.
Because this can go on for hours, I have separated them. Winton is now in a pack and play which he outgrew about a year ago, in the room in which I sleep. He's yelling, at top volume, "Swiper no swiping!"
Clara is gargling with her own spit and laughing maniacally.
Efforts to shut them up escalate rather than calm (that counts for me too--I get ever angrier).
In the meantime, to the tune of "Trailer for Sale or Rent":
Children, for sale or rent.
Cheap as 50 cents.
Blankies, and toys and pets.
Buy them with no regret.
But truth is:
Two hours of screaming loom
in their darkened bedrooms.
For they're loud and restless, screamers.
Kids get my goat.