Kids are kids.

When I hang out with other kids, which is often, I usually realize or remember one of two things...

My kids are awesome and these kids suck.

or

The awfulness that is my kids is totally normal.

I recalled the latter last night when I babysat for Ebba who had a meeting. She took Lincoln with her so I was only left with the girls. After a thoroughly interesting discussion about their teachers names and other random kid shit, they started getting ready for bed. They were quite good even though "I didn't do it like Mama." They brushed their teeth (after I did it for them) and then we all read books. One was really long, but I was in baby sitter mood so I let them have it (something I would not have done at home.)

Then it was time to sleep. There was a little fuss about some stuffed animal and having the beds closer together, but in general it was an easy bedtime.

Then about 20 minutes later, I heard someone crying. Ebba had told me about Fiona waking up being scared so I assumed it was her when I went back in their room. Wrong. It was Allison. She was bawling and saying something unintelligible. I got her to calm down and determined she was afraid of the dark. She told me to turn the bathroom light on, but since it was already on, I didn't understand what she was saying. She just kept repeating herself as did I and we got nowhere. Finally I said, "Just come here and turn the light on yourself." By then, we had woken up Fiona who had fallen asleep before songs were over. Allison realized the light *was* on and went back to bed. Then I turned to her and said, "If you need something else, don't just sit in bed and cry. Just come get me so I can fix it. OK?"

"Ok, Rachel. Thank you." she says.

I could have inserted Miranda for Allison in this story and it would have been any given night at our place.