A few days ago, P and I were invited to a cookout at a friend’s house and then to go see Robert Earl Keen at a local dancehall. We gladly accepted the invitation to the cookout but declined the opportunity to go see Robert Earl because we are old combined with the fact that I’ve developed a mid-life allergy to cigarette smoke which may also be known as being sober in a bar and realizing how much smoke is actually in the air.
In addition to this compelling reason to not go see the concert, add the fact that someone was stabbed in this very bar within the last month.
So, last night we went attended the cookout portion of the evening. Now y’all may be wondering where Caroline was…and even if you’re not, I’m going to tell you anyway.
My friend that I work with has a 12 year old daughter who has been dying to babysit Caroline. She has been over here to visit a few times and Caroline loves her, but since we have Mimi and Bops living less than two miles away and the aforementioned fact that we are old and don’t get out much, we are rarely in need of a babysitter.
Anyway, I decided that since it was going to be a pretty short evening and we were going to be about a mile from home, we would let this girl babysit. Her mom brought her over and she had a little friend (and as I write “little friend”, I realize it confirms my old status because my mother used to always refer to us inviting a “little friend” somewhere and “little” obviously means young, not miniature) with her to help her out. Caroline was already bathed, in her pajamas, and pizza was on the way for all the girls to eat for dinner.
We left them playing with blocks and gave instructions to put Caroline to bed in about an hour because I am a naive fool.
Two hours later, we returned home to find Caroline still up and pretty much running the entire operation. She had convinced them that she couldn’t go to sleep unless they were in her room with her and also told them that she doesn’t have to ever brush her teeth…which is true.
Oh, I’m kidding. We brush her teeth at least twice a week.
I don’t know who was happier to see us, Caroline or those poor girls. As soon as I hit the door, I took charge of the situation and began the process of getting teeth brushed and Caroline into bed. The girls went into the kitchen to devour the pizza they hadn’t been able to eat because “Caroline didn’t really want us to eat”. Have mercy.
I don’t think they’re going to be begging to babysit again anytime soon.
Can’t say I blame them.