I hear what sounds like a hen-party going on downstairs when the girls are supposed to be getting ready for bed - shrieks of laughter, music, banging doors- so I go down to put the muscle on them. Gone are the days of throwing fits and loosing my temper about the lack of promptness to obey or the condition of the basement. I try to muster it up but instead I start laughing at them and end up flopping on someone's bed and before you know it I'm a accomplice to the crime. I know I should be tough, but I just can't do it once I set foot in the party zone. They are just too funny now and it's just too much doggone fun down there! Heaven help us.