Thus far today:
The 7-year-old has her BFF over for a sleepover, so they have been cloistered in her room doing whatever mysterious things they have longed to do since the last time they were able to play together. Without a doubt this involves Pokemon in some way.
The 6-year-old is still asleep. Words alone cannot express how grateful we should all be about this, for this is a child who requires sleep and plenty of it. I fully expect a flash mob to show up at any time to perform a silent dance of jubilation. If I have any say there will be an homage to Thriller somewhere in it, but nobody ever consults me about these things.
The 4-year-old, nose thoroughly out of joint regarding the cloistering of the older girls, sits on the sofa watching something called Meet The Fairies. I have tried not to pay any attention to it because my brain is fully developed and will turn to wobbly mush if exposed to such things, but it sounds Australian. In fact it sounds like the Wiggles were given an extravagant unicorns-farting-glitter fairyland ensemble and told to run with it. Run, and run far.
Oh and Grandpa? Grandpa just came skulking in emitting that strangled meow that signifies death and destruction. Thus has a black-headed grosbeak met its maker. RIP, little feathered friend.