At night, Leo and the children engage in a bizarre ritual wherein he throws them about the living room and turns them upside down and balances them on his feet in the air and they squeal with glee and clamor for more.
They call it "playing."
Last night, Leo was assembling some dinner and they realized that I was a no go for this kind of entertainment, and so they took matters into their own hands (and feet!).
Sometimes it's an airplane, and sometimes it's an accident, depending on who is on top. On the bright side, it seemed to produce the requisite number of hysterical squeals, so maybe they are finally becoming self-sufficient. We can hope.