I can't make this stuff up!

I'm tucking the twin Fries in for naps.  Medium Fry has come up without her duckie, mad because we said it was naptime.  "But Duckie doesn't wanna nap!  He wants to weawr a dwess!"

"Fine," I told her.  "Duckie can stay down here and wear a dress.  But you are going to take a nap."

Of course, her not wanting Duckie changed by the time I got them both upstairs.

I tucked them in, performed the ritual asking of which blanket they wanted to be covered with first (the one Gramma made, or the one I made), turned on the classical music, and hugged both Fries.

Small Fry insisted on having the "doowr a little closed," which means I close it until I can't close it anymore, because her big stuffed basset hound, Toby, is in the way.  (Toby used to belong to my oldest nephew.)  Toby, however, was nowhere to be found.

"He's in youwr wroom!" Small Fry said indignantly, as if I should have magically known.  I'd been in there before, looking for her little piggy, and hadn't seen him.

I went back and looked again.  Sure enough, there was Toby.  The reason I couldn't see him is because our fluffy kitty Minou--real weight 17 pounds, but looks about 25--had snuggled up with him to snooze.  (Too bad I left my phone downstairs.  It would've been a cute picture.)

I brought Toby back to the Fries' room and explained he'd been napping with Minou.  Then I shut the door up to Toby, and promised I would look for Duckie and bring him back up.

"He's inna cyoobe," Medium informed me.  "A gween cyoobe."  (We have brightly colored canvas cubes in the toy room for storage.)  "He's saying, 'Medium, help me!'"

I headed downstairs to find the errant Duckie.  Small Fry called out urgently, "You didn't get da monstwers out!"

"I'll do that when I bring Duckie up," I reassured her.

Sure enough, I found Duckie exactly where Medium said he was, in one of the green canvas cubes.  (Shocking.  Usually, when she "stashes" him someplace, she doesn't remember where.)  And he wasn't wearing a dress.  At least I don't have to worry about Duckie having an identity crisis.

Back upstairs, I peek in the door, and then shake Duckie a little so he rattles, which gets Medium's attention and earns a huge grin.  I "fly" him into the room and tuck him under her arm while she giggles.

And then I cross my pinkies and prepare to perform the monster exorcism.

"All unfriendly monsters, unfriendly giants, unfriendly wombats, unfriendly everything," I intone solemnly, "it's time to get out!  Woo-ah!" And, as per ritual, I kick with my right foot.

Medium looks up at me.  "Da wombats licked you!" she crowed.

"Eeeeeeeew," I said, making a face.  I smiled and moved to the door.

"Tell da wombats to leave you alone."

"Leave me alone, wombats!"

Small Fry wasn't about to be left out of this.  She gave me an impish grin.  "Da wombats awre in youwr tuchus and in youwr giwrl pawrts!"

I decided I wasn't touching that one.  "Go to sleep!"

Hubby's startled expression when I told him where Small said the wombats were pretty much mirrored my own thoughts.  ;)