Anybody have some earplugs?

As I type this, there are two children screaming in the next room. Both TheBoy and TheGirl are furious that it's bedtime and, more generally, that we're mean, that life is unfair and that we're trying our best to regain control of the house. Because this weekend, we definitely lost it.

TheBoy is the bigger problem. Now solidly 4 years old, he's weaning himself from naptime. The result: By 5 p.m., he's exhausted. And an exhausted Boy is an unhappy Boy.

We are in Jekyl and Hyde mode. When he's happy, he's the happiest kid in town -- and a delight to be around. He's had some conversational leap in recent weeks, and so talking to him now is a constant wonder of new words, complete and complex sentences and funny, wise observations about the world. When he's tired, however, all hell breaks loose. It's like the terrible twos all over again, only worse, because he's now too big for us to simply pick up and move where we want him to go. Time out no longer frightens him, and as we've seen, he's not really scared of losing his stuff. In fact, he's happy to help move it.

TheGirl is easier, a remarkable switch from those early days. She's sitting up like a champ now and playing with toys, which means we can plop her down in the floor or her high chair or on the bed and she'll happily hang out picking up and dropping her hippo rattle or chirping monkey for a good 20 minutes -- even more if she can manage to get her pacifier in her mouth. If only she would sleep through the night ... but I've decided to stop worrying about that. We're clearly overthinking on that front.

It's been 10 minutes since I started this post. TheGirl seems to have gone to sleep. Or maybe I just can't hear her over the sound of TheBoy screaming, "Iiiiiiiima! Moooommmy!"

I'm sure I'll miss all this in, say, 15 years or so.