So, I’m in my office reading my e-mail, and I hear wailing from upstairs.

Oh, No! John’s fallen off the bunkbed again or something like that, I think.

I trot upstairs prepared to see blood, or at least break up some fighting, and I follow the noise (which doesn’t sound so much like crying anymore) to my bedroom, where I see John and Jenna on my bed singing.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Singing!” they say.


And they’re cute, too.