Every night between 4:30 and 6, for some reason, my children lose their minds.
Everyone is screaming.
And toddlers are wedged between me and the cabinets banging their heads back and forth between the two.
I do not understand the phenomenon, but it happens EVERY NIGHT.
Well tonight, as I was attempting to fix chocolate chip pancakes (the spent woman's answer to dinner), we hit that moment of crazy and I had to just put each of them in a separate room till dinner. So Daddy's Girl is writing. Most likely an entry in her journal of her most oppressive life. Little Prince is calling from behind his closed door to anyone who might listen, and Sunshine is in the pack-n-play in our room quietly playing with her toys.
Me? I've got my music cranked up and am finishing off the majority of the chocolate chips that are supposed to go in the pancakes. Just like Donna Reid would.