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.