I'm typing this in the closet. On the other side of the door, my house has been overtaken by two small natives. I can hear the crashing of toys being pulled from their shelves and the screeching of maniacal laughter brought on by a combination of drugs and lack of sleep.
Very, very afraid.
As I type, the smallest is banging against the door incessantly chanting, "Mamamamamamamamamama." The high pitched sound of her usually sweet voice is boring into my sleep deprived brain.
I just heard a toy bin being tossed across the room and the squeak of the bed means that someone is jumping. Elizabeth is now talking on my phone. To someone in China, most likely.
I don't know how long it will take them to find my hiding place. I don't know how I'm going to survive. If you don't hear from me over the next couple of days, it means that the natives have overtaken me and I'm curled up in a corner in the fetal position.