First of all, the Kindergarten was closed for some German bank holiday and Ralf announced that he was going to go play hookie with some other dads.
I'll just skip over that conversation.
Then K, our 5-year-old, cried all day about stuff like finding one of her toys two microns to the right of where she had left it. She cried through breakfast, wept her way through miniature golf, pulled herself together sufficiently to attend a birthday party in the afternoon, then promptly resumed sobbing when she got home until bed time.
Meanwhile L, our 3-year-old, has decided she's not actually potty trained any more.
By the end of the day I was completely done in. Ralf, having wisely abandoned his golf plans, rose to the occassion, making dinner and switching on Chuck without a word. In case you don't appreciate the significance of this, remember he doesn't like Chuck.
We graduated to fruity rum drinks and ended up having a very nice - if a bit silly - evening. To give you an idea, I ate a bit of leftover cold chicken, which gave me the hiccups. When Ralf called them 'chick-ups' I completely lost it.
The crowning moment was when we went upstairs to kiss the girls good night before bed. L had snuck into our bed, which she is not supposed to do. To throw us off the trail she created an elaborate 'fake sleeping child' in her own bed using her stuffed sheep and several pillows and blankets. We didn't catch on right away that it wasn't her until I kissed her head and it was a sheep.
Sheep trick - get it?
I guess she didn't realize that even if the sheep fooled us, we were bound to notice her once we went to bed.