I have been yelling like a … well, a grumpy grandfather. It’s embarrassing really — yelling for quiet. But it’s necessary when you have a houseful of screaming kids. I know my voice only added to the pandemonium, but I had to do something. The TV was blasting, an iPad was playing music, and a naked 4-year-old was running through my den like a little streaker. When you add shrieks from two other children, there’s no way I could peacefully watch the ending of Top Gun. The cherry on the frustrating sundae came about when I got out of my chair to investigate the nudity and stepped on a Barbie doll — without clothes, of course. It felt like my barefoot had been stabbed with a bowie knife.

This is what happens when three of my grandkids, who are all girls, spend the night with us. When Rilynne, 12, Eva, 8, and Addy, 4, get together, it’s like a female version of Lord of the Flies.

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