Babysitting

One of the interesting things about marrying so young is that, in our late 50s when many of our friends are becoming first time grandparents, we are already greats. Our two great grands are aged 2 1/2 and 1 1/2 and they are here for the day.

I remind myself I am not a rookie. I have four kids, six grands, and (over a 20 year span) close to 100 who have passed through here as foster kids.

But it has been a while. And I'm going it alone for half the day, due to a husband who has graciously become chauffer for my 92 year old mother's many medical appointments.

Little Man loves Go, Diego, Go. He had a dvd. By 11 A.M., I know it by heart.

Little Man is over the back of the sofa. Rescue in order. He goes over the back of the chair. Rescue again. He opens the pantry and emerges with a box of Lucky Charms. He only eats the marshmallows. (I, in a momentary burst of wisdom, had a lock put on the pantry door when the contactor built it 14 years ago. Today, after checking every key on my ring to make sure I still had the one that fits, I used the lock.)

The Princess, who is afraid of our dog, is now attached to my side. Little Man, who is not afraid of the dog, is trying to jump over it. The Princess learns to say "Doggie says Woof." Once, she is brave enough to fleetingly touch the dog. After that, The Princess resumes being afraid of it.

The Princess calls me Mom. Her brother refers to me as Vikki. Vikki is his auntie and she showed up about noon so that he'd get us straight in his mind. Now he calls us both Vikki. (I'm actually far better with that than Vikki would be if he called her Grammie.

We have noodles and strawberries and chicken for lunch. (This is starting to come back to me.) Other than forgetting to put a bib on The Princess, lunch was a cinch.

And now, it is nap time.

I think I'll take one.