Tacos and soup

I have two stories to share today.

I watched the twins at my house last night. I'm pretty sure I've written about this previously, but I can't sleep when they're at my house.

They slept good last night. According to my FitBit, I slept one hour and one minute.

I don't know if I'll ever be able to sleep when they're at my house.

Anyway, because I didn't sleep last night, I spent most of the day today catching up. I had a dream this afternoon that I had to make 400 tacos by tomorrow. If you care, half were ground beef and half were to be chicken.

I was stressed out about it, because that's a shitload of tacos to make.

Here's the real problem, though. Why am I dreaming about tacos?

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Putting the twins to bed last night was a fairly easy process. It was also funny.

We took baths, did nails, watched Doo Doo (Scooby Doo) and then read some stories. We said our prayers, then I tucked them in and kissed them goodnight.

And then the requests came.

I want a drink.

I have to potty.

Where Daddy at?

I have to potty.

Where Mommy at?

I have to potty.

Another story (book).

Where Gamma at?

I'm thirsty.

Where Papa at?

I have to potty.

There was a straw that eventually broke the camel's back and made me leave the room for good, laughing on the way out.

The request came from my curly-haired niece.

I want mader soup.

Maders are tomatoes. My smart, brilliant, funny 2.5-year-old niece asked me for tomato soup at 11 p.m. to put off going to bed.

Well played, kid. Well played. The answer is no, though, but you do get some brownie points for the effort you put into prolonging bedtime.

Night night!