I spent 20 solo minutes downstairs this evening while Drew gave the girls a bath. Have I mentioned lately how much I appreciate having a bathtub? The kitchen sink was effective, but offered no break in the cooking dinner, cleaning up from dinner, bath time, bed time whirlwind that concluded every day. Now, it's just me, a glass of wine (and an undisclosed number for shortbread cookies), and a blip of solitude after dinner and before putting the girls to bed.
I was rousted out of my solitude induced bliss when I heard Drew say, "Okay girls, get your pajamas on!" followed by a bunch of clanking, banging and general room ransacking. Then the promenade down the stairs to get me for bedtime.
Here's the "pajamas" they picked out.
Who doesn't need cowgirls boots, purses and cats tied around their necks for a comfortable sleep? Hoodlums.
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