I brought it on myself. There is no one to blame but me.

I’m in the bathroom with the girls at bedtime: brushing teeth, braiding hair, believing that they will listen to me about the value of a full night’s sleep.

Good luck with that.

Isabella (she’s 9): Daddy, I have crusty stuff under my eye.

Me: Everybody gets that. Because, your eyes are constantly leaking tears even when you don’t think they are. And, there’s stuff in tears that make the crusty stuff.

Julianna (11): Maybe you have a fection.

Me: IN-fection, and no she doesn’t.

Isabella and I both look deeply into the mirror at our eyes.

And, then, quite on purpose, just to see if my monkeys are as trained as I think…

Me: Man, I am a good-looking man!

And then, my monkeys perform…

Girls, simultaneously: No you’re not.

Girls: Jinx!

Girls: Double Jinx!

Girls: Rainbow Jinx!

Girls: Double Rainbow Jinx!

Iz: You owe me a soda.

J: No, You owe me a soda, because you weren’t looking at me when you called the Double Rainbow Jinx.

Iz: Yeah, but you weren’t looking at me when I said you owed me a soda.

Me: Who came up with the rules? Back in my day, a Jinx was a Jinx.

Girls: Daaad! Stop!

They are so well-trained.

There’s quite a bit of back and forth regarding who owes whom a soda. I quietly slip out of the bathroom.

Now, I’ve never heard of a Rainbow Jinx. Apparently, if you call Jinx under a roof, it has to be of the Rainbow persuasion. The “you owe me a soda” thing is completely out of left field, because the girls don’t drink soda.

The fight roars for 4 or 5 minutes. Feelings are hurt. Tears are shed. Crusty stuff forms.

Meanwhile, I head to the kitchen, and crack open a Coke.

Bedtime.