I came home today to a half-dozen females - my own trio and three from another family, fleeing a mouse infestation at their house. The girls are more or less matched sets: two about three years old, two about one, two are SAHMs who grew up in Moorhead. All are blonde, all are adorable, and the youngsters have a powerful ability to wreak havoc.
After arriving home and tooting a few times on the kazoo which Genevieve jammed in my mouth, I ran upstairs to deal with a bazillion preliterate emails about some stuff we're trying to sell on Craigslist. The girls soon followed. In literally 60 seconds - that's four girl-minutes - the entire playroom looked like a toy store after a tornado. And the shrieking! The best part was that Julia's friend Lucy kept calling me "Daddy," clearly thinking that this was my unique appellation, distinct from the "Papa" which she uses with her dad. I think I used the word "adorable" once already, but it's apt here, too.