Kid: “How old is your son?”
Me: “Huh? I don’t have a son.”
Kid: “Oh, then who is that kid on your phone’s lock screen?”
Me: “Ooooooh, that’s my nephew!”
Kid: “Oh. So you don’t have any kids?”
Kid: “But you just got married, right?”
Kid: “Then shouldn’t your lock screen be a picture of your husband?”
Me: “Is that a rule?”
Kid: “Well, I just think, like, it should be THE most important person to you. And that person should be your husband, if you don’t have kids. I’m just saying.”
Well aren’t we judgy at 9 years old.
Two hours into a 24-hour babysitting stint with my nephew, and I’ve already run through all the emotions.
One minute later:
One hour later:
“Now what am I going to do?!”
— Eric, just now, with genuine fear and disappointment in his eyes, seconds after The Boog left their play date to go home and take a nap.
I just tried face-timing my nephew, but as soon as he saw me on the screen, he started whining.
Me: “Ugh. I’m hanging up. Call me back when he’s not annoying.”
It’s been 15 minutes.
Just realized it’ll be 15 years.
One day, my sister and brother-in-law are going to mistake my real ignorance for this sarcastic ignorance, and they’re going to give the ok and I’m going to go right on ahead and get their kid stoned.
My sister and brother in law have a bar mitzvah on Long Island, so tonight’s the night Eric and I lube up the baby and watch him crawl across the hardwood floors, an opportunity we missed during Lubegate and have regretted ever since.
If that goes well (how could it not?), we will break out hockey sticks and use the baby as a puck.
We will then stick him in a huge steam pot with pasta, dump red sauce on him, sprinkle him with parmesan, take a photo, and advertise him on craigslist as a gourmet spaghetti-and-meatball dinner for 10.
And to think I don’t even charge Steph and Andrew for my services.
Apparently, when the whole family goes home to Maryland for the weekend, aunthood comes with a roommate.
Ok, fine. Secretly I’m thrilled.
But this shit is NOT happening on family vacay in the Outer Banks.
Later today I will be squished in the backseat of a small car with my brother and likely-to-be-cranky baby nephew for what I’m sure will be at least a 7-hour drive down to Maryland.
Luckily, I have some Ambien.
To crush up and put in the baby’s bottle.