Last night, Daddy had a long talk with the girls about what it means to tell the truth. Apparently, the conversation didn’t stick, because tonight M told me that Baby J (whom they are constantly blaming for things) had come upstairs to my bedroom and knocked over my bookshelf with all my books in it. Now, it didn’t take more than a second for me to confirm that this was a lie, for my books were in alphabetical order by author before I left for work this morning, and still are. Unless Imogene had a very busy afternoon of putting books back in order, M was not, in fact, telling the truth.

We wrote in the Ribbit book. I printed yesterday’s blog post on the color printer at work and we cut out the photos of M with Ribbit and taped them into the book.

M&A have discovered this website (I have *no* idea who showed it to them) and they think it is very funny.

The girls just pulled the "I’m hungry" excuse for getting out of bed. I sent them back upstairs with two crackers each.

Time for bed, girls.