channelling my inner 14 year old

i rushed home, stopping only at starbux for a grande bold and a sandwich. at home, i quickly ate the sandwich, took my advair, and brushed my teeth. then i turned to the task of packing, first removing my lunch dishes and gym clothes from my backpack, depositing dishes in the sink and dirty clothes in the hamper. into the pack went hp5, my netbook and power cord, some lemonade, paper to write my cabinmate a letter, and a jacket in case it was cold. after i had all this inside, i lugged the pack onto my back, grabbed my grande bold, and set off across the yard to the house next door.

tonight, i am babysitting.

back in the day, i did a lot of sitting. what else did i have to do? the house immediately to the left and immediately to the right had two boy children, each, so i didn't sit much at either of those because the boys prefered the crown prince if he were available. boys. sheesh. the rest of the neighborhood was mine, though, including the house down on the main drag where the preacher and his wife lived with their two kids. the little boy had had open heart surgery - more than once, i think - as an infant so he had a scarred up chest. he also had a funny-shaped head, but i am not sure that was related to the heart condition. his pops had a pretty funny-shaped head of his own, so it was likely genetic.

i always thought those people had the wackest snacks. after the kids go to bed, babysitting is really about the snacks, right? they had really good bryers vanilla bean ice cream and they also had natural peanut butter. if distinctly remember eating those things together, but i am not sure that actually happened. if it did happen, that explains why i thought their snacks were wack.

this house, tonight, has peaches and watermelons. at least, those are the items which were offered to me. i took inventory, though, so i know it also has oatmeal creme pies and a selection of reese's peanut butter cups. however, "sigh", snacking isn't what it used to be, now that i fully understand the connexion between the reese's and my hindquarters.

this house also has a video monitor aimed at the baby, who was already asleep when i arrived. it's entirely possible - nay, highly likely - i will emerge from this sitting job not having even gone in the same room as, much less touched, the baby. his mom said don't hesitate to call if he starts fussing. i was like, hey... please... i've got this. i mean, if i can't sit here in a comfortable chair, glancing at a video baby-monitor, using the free wireless, sipping starbux, and eating purloined creme pies... well, if i can't do that, then i have no business calling myself a babysitter at all, now, do i?