The girls are in the upstairs hall bathroom, playing "Showtime" with the curtain in the shower. Allie seems to be getting the most applause, not surprising since she makes the most noise overall.
They have Rabies trapped in there with them, and they've been opening and slamming the cabinet drawers. If I'm going to prevent a recurrence of the infamous cabinet drawer incident, I guess I'm going to have to get up and rescue him.
The girls have now come out on their own, and they're playing on top of my bed. Pretending to be ghosts with my top sheet, despite my warnings about falling off the bed or pulling the sheet out, which would seriously tick me off since I have a headache and my nose hurts.
Now they're pretending that they're flying in clouds (under the sheet). All of Daddy's pillows are too tempting of a target, so they're jumping into that pile too.
Watching them play (and not fight) is heartwarming and sweet and all that, but I can't help wishing that they'd clear out so I can try to go to sleep. I hate being sick.
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