I’m only blogging because I’ve been quarantined to my office and I’ve got nothing else to do in here.  The rest of the house has been commandeered by four girls in various stages of undressedness.

Last night Gresham (age six) spent the night at a friend’s and some girls came over to spend the night with Gabriella (age seven).  At the moment they’re taking showers and getting makeover’s before we head out the door to church.  This makes no sense to me.  Which is good.  It reaffirms my man-ness, I suppose, after that unfortunate cake confession.

Why is it fun to wash one’s hair?  To put paint on one’s face?  To dress up in one’s uncomfortable clothes?

Besides the plate of bacon and pancakes, this makeover thing seems to be the highlight of the whole spending-the-night deal this weekend.  Whereas, the highlight of spending the night at my friends’ houses as a kid was flipping Space Invaders and, in later years, Mario Brothers for the zillionth time.  And mooning somebody.  And sticking Oreos to someone’s house and cars. And drinking my body weight in Jolt and Dr.Pepper.  That was fun.  And makes total sense to me.