The Evil Monkeys have decided tonight is not a night for sleeping. The older monkey throws a fit every time I close the door to their bedroom, and as Marc's computer is right in front of their door, I'm passing my guard duty time on-line. Woohoo (said with dripping sarcasm).

Evil Monkey 1, the escape artist, amuses himself by climbing out of his crib, slinking over to his sister's, and climing up and in next to her. Honestly sometimes this is a good thing. She worships him, and there are nights when his presence is the only thing that calms her down. But most of the time, sadly, he ends up waking her up, and then they both start up with the non-stop giggling and laughter and furntiure rearranging.

Evil Monkey 2 has recently discovered how to stand up in the bed. This means those days I thought would be peaceful, those days of calm, they're gone. GONE. She now, whenever we put her down for the night, has to make sure she remembers exactly how to stand, and then has to slink around the bed, twice, rather like a dog following his tail before laying down. At this very moment, she's holding on the the top bar of her crib and jumping on the damn electronic dog her God-father got her at birth. Her brother is cheering her on. It's almost midnight.

Dear Lord, please make them go to sleep. I'm so tired.