How has it gone?
Well....I mean......probably good.
Marigold was horribly addicted to massive bottles of milk so that she wasn't really eating food. Fatty Lumpkin was so addicted to My Little Pony that she had no ability to play or do anything interesting when the wretched program was playing and when it wasn't. It's been like what I imagine a Hollywood rehab spa in the Sierras would be. The drama, the sneaking of the iPad to watch something quietly under the table, the practically silent pouring of a whole gallon of milk into a baby bottle and on to the floor, the violent shrieking when the offense is discovered, the bargaining, the rage, the half step forward seven steps back. One day last week, whatever day it was, Marigold gathered a bunch of bottles in a plastic bag and hauled them over to church to give them to a real baby. We fell all over ourselves congratulating her only to live through four days of her lying around whining, 'actually, I'm not a big girl anymore. I need a bottle of milk.' Fatty Lumpkin just shouts 'My Pony! My Pony' as a response to anything anyone says to her or near her.
But, it seems like maybe we've broken the back of it. There's an imperceptible tiny bit less crying and a bit more eating of food and playing. Heaven keep them from gambling and strong drink and rock and roll. I can just see the shattered wreck of their addicted lives stretching before them. And the blaming of their poor foolish parents. Well not this time! This time I win!