This is Mallory, on speed.

For reasons I'll get into later, we are all camped out in one room this week, and right now it's 9 p.m., Liam is conked out on the bed beside me (thank goodness) and Mallory is in a crib in the corner of the room, keeping up a running commentary that started half an hour ago when we turned out the lights and which, if last night was any indication, is likely to continue for at least that long again. She is unbelieveably loud and jabbering to herself about nothing in particular. "This is my big toe. That's the garbage can. What's in the garbage can? There's some papers, I see a diaper... I don't know what's in the garbage can. I don't touch the garbage. Mallory is a bad, bad girl. [Echoing what we told her after more than an hour of this last night.] Liam is a good boy. Mom is good, dad is good, Mallory is a bad, bad girl..."

Last night I think this was our fault, because we let her eat chocolate right before putting her to bed. In hindsight, was likely asking for it. Tonight... we did everything in our power to avoid recreating the situation... to no avail. Oh well. At least tonight, Liam was so tired (after being kept up late last night) that even her obnoxious loud voice couldn't keep him awake. I'm glad that at least one of them is getting some rest.