It's like Bridget Jones' Diary, but with a super-powered vigilante.

June 16, 2005

An Adventure in Babysitting

So I babysit little Hector for Mitch and Lisa.

I know what you're thinking; this is going to be a cute anecdote about the big tough superhero guy running around in a panic trying to find the right ointment, or trying to clean up poo or trying to get the baby to stop crying. Like in Three Men and a Baby, or that one scene in Tootsie. And when the parents get home they find their baby sleeping victoriously in the arms of the vanquished babysitter, who is covered in baby powder and has passed out from exhaustion, and isn't that charming?

That did not happen.

Or maybe you're thinking this is a little story about how the big tough superhero guy realizes that the true heroes are parents who do their best every day raising their kids in an unpredictable, crazy world, and maybe the real way to save the world isn't by punching out maniacs in costumes but is by making sure that the next generation of tenants on this planet value things like love, sharing, and justice.

Okay, that might have happened a little bit.

Mitch and Lisa get home three hours later and find little Hector and I asleep on the couch. I have my shirt unbottoned and the baby is sprawled out on my bare chest sleeping peacefully while I watch Wings of the Luftwaffe on the History Channel.

"Everything okay?" Lisa asks while Mitch looks around for property damage.

"Yeah, we're just hanging out watching the Nazi Channel."

"Did he take a bottle?" Lisa asks. She looks surprised to find her kid alive.

"Uh-huh."

"Did you change his diaper?" Lisa asks.

"Yeah, no problem."

"Did you remember the ointment, the stuff in the orange tube?" Lisa asks.

"Yeah."

"Did he fuss at all?" Lisa asks.

"A little. I did the bare chest thing like you said and he fell asleep right away. He's a little snuggler, isn't he?"

Lisa smiles.

"Yes, you're a little snuggler, aren't you Hector?" I say in a dog-voice to the sleeping kid.

"Wow, so... everything's okay," Lisa says.

Mitch returns. "Nothing broken or burned down. I can't believe it."

I smile sourly. "Ass," I say. "Drank all your Snapple, by the way."

Lisa strokes her sleeping baby's head, smiling. "Looks like you guys got along okay. Thanks a lot Connor."

"No problem. Hey, can you lift him up off of me? I've been lying here for the past hour because I didn't want to wake him up. Now I've got a bladder full of Snapple and I have to pee like a goddamn race horse."

I think I did pretty good with the babysitting thing. I mean, the baby survived, so that's Job #1 accomplished right there. I wouldn't want to make a habit of babysitting, but at least I know it can be done.

6 comments:

Johnny Canuck said...

Awwwwwww

TheMorgan said...

I'm torn between going 'Awww...' (in an 'isn't that cute?' kind of way) and 'awww... I was looking forward to reading about the Big Time Fucking Up Of Shit' (in a Luke Skywalker complaining about having to clean up the droids kind of way)

Gus said...

"Time for Plan B, which involves fucking shit up big time."

and

"the real way to save the world (isn't (imo, it is)) by punching out maniacs in costumes"


that is a good life you 're leading, VM - I salute you

Anonymous said...

Yeah, what IS the answer? Is it fucking shit up big time, or raising kids to be decent human beings?

I'm hoping it's a little of both.

Verity Kindle said...

I vote for "a little of both".

Faceless Henchwoman said...

I'm for fucking up shit.