We're down to two kids in the house--Lola and her father. And somehow I find myself constantly trapped between them, ricocheting off one's shoulder into the other's hip, being stepped on--and, oh, the noise! The crying and whining, the questions, the bad rapping and fake accents. All weekend it was Biggy going, "WHOOP-WHOOP" and Lola responding, "THAT'S THE SOUND OF THE POLICE!"--at dinner, in the car, in the Apple Store. Imagine this a thousand times.