We are having a great weekend. Bubba's cousins are spending the night, and the girls are having so much fun. It's easier to have three or four kids in the house than two, actually, because they entertain each other and the time flies by. We took the kids to McDonald's for dinner, and the girls saw themselves in a mirror. Bubba leaned over and kissed Goofball on her cheek.

Bubba: We look like we're married!

Goofball: You look like you married your brother!

Me: You can't marry your cousin, or your brother.

Goofball: Or your dad. Or your uncle.

Bubba: Or Fuzzy.

Goofball: You can't marry your nuggets.

Bubba: You can't marry your boogers.

Goofball: You can't marry red boogers. That means it has blood in them.

Bubba: You can't marry a tree.

Goofball: You can't marry a tree unless it's your husband.

Made perfect sense to me. On the way home in the truck, the girls started another game of How Crazy Can 5-Year-Olds Be? First there was the burping contest. Handsome can only aspire at the moment to be the burping champion that Goofball is. She can drown out me and Mower combined. Then there was the endless round of increasingly more silly Knock Knock jokes, which culminated with this gem:

Goofball: Knock, knock.

Bubba: Who's there?

Goofball: Mustache.

Bubba: Mustache who?

Goofball: Mustache who needs to wear a straw so he can work at Burger King!

Exactly.

Then there was the sitting on the couch and Goofball putting her foot to her face like a phone and asking, "Hello? May I take your order?" And the ever-popular, putting lipstick on Mower as he crashed on the couch while all the children were still awake and running around. I figure that's only fair at a sleepover.