Hey, I said, if she doesn't want to leave, why doesn't she just spend the night? We have spare T-shirts and toothbrushes.

Well. The strange dance that this brought on is something that is better seen than described (it was like a cross between the Myposian Dance of Joy, the Groucho Marx "hey nonny nonny and a hot cha cha" arm flapping from Duck Soup, and the Cabbage Patch), the likes of which should only ever be attempted by two grade-school girls in the throes of an attack of the sillies. They kept themselves busy and eventually went to run amok outside; at that point, my sister stopped back with a change of clothes and the stuffed giraffe which must accompany my niece to bed every night. She handed the stuffed critter over the fence and brought the clothes inside to me before taking off to do her thing, and everything went swimmingly until after dinner, well after dark.

When my niece remembered that, oh yeah! She left her toy outside!

So I made Uncle KC put on his shoes and go giraffe-hunting in the dark. The girls were distracted by a stunningly well-timed bowl of brownie batter to clean out, and once they were in the oven (the brownies, not the girls), I went out to join the search. He was, of course, in the complete opposite direction from where he was last thought to be seen, but was none the worse for wear. KC went to return our neighbor's giant flashlight (Joe to his girlfriend: "KC lost a giraffe. Dunno how that happens; aren't they, like, seven feet tall?") and came in a hero.

"Hey kiddo, are you sure he was out there?"

Her little face fell about ten feet. "Yes!"

"Oh. 'Cause all I found out there was this guy." And he held up the Object of Affection. Boom! Happiest girl in the world.

When the brownies were done, we had those and some hot chocolate and I read a book (this just in: I am not fond of Mary Gaitskill) while the girls watched Air Buddies (Mary Gaitskill is still a better option than Air Buddies) and they went to bed, until about ten minutes ago when Leah brought her sidekick downstairs, wailing that she wanted her mommy. I called so she could say good night, waking my poor sister up, and then got them back upstairs and settled back in.

"Should I give her some of my toys to snuggle with?"

Muffled sobbing.

"You're a sweetie, Lee. Do you have any giraffes?"

"I might have one, let me look."

Muffled sobbing, abruptly broken off, and a hopeful tiny voice piped up: "...I also like zebras."

A zebra was produced, along with a wee giraffe, both were pronounced satisfactory ("Ohhhhh, Leah, these are so cute! Do they have names? I am a good namer") and by the time I started back downstairs to finish this, they were giggling like mad.

I just hope they're asleep before midnight, because otherwise tomorrow will be a bitch.