Babysitting Adventures: Relationships

Kids say some pretty crazy things. Why else would we have phrases like "kids say the darnedest things"...? Or people earning thousands of dollars over home movies with kids just being kids?

The year I graduated from college, one of my cousins got married. On that side of the family, we have three kids on each side. Five of us are within the same 8-yr birth range, with a much younger cousin bringing up the rear. We were spending time together at my uncle's place before the wedding, sharing lunch and stories, getting to know my cousin's fiance before things shifted to westward for the wedding weekend. Present were each of the six cousins, the fiance, and another cousin's boyfriend. My youngest cousin made the observation that I was flying solo for the event. Before I could say anything, my brother cut in to explain the situation: "Oh, well you see, she's what we call a 'spin-ster'." Very dramatic explanation. My cousin, not yet ten at the time, laughed, pointed at me and said "You're a spinster!!"

I share all of that to say I've never been in a serious relationship. I've gone on dates. I've spent time with guys. But I've never been in one of those exclusive "we belong together" type of things. The timing's never been right and if you're not in it to win it, I don't believe in wasting anyone's time. And I've heard it all when it comes to being single. Fresh out of college it used to bother me, but I've learned to laugh about it because what else am I supposed to do? And let's be honest...some of the things I've heard have been mildly humorous...especially when it comes from kids.

Which brings me back to the Trying Trio. They may deserve a shout out in the "acknowledgments" portion of my book. It was between the Penguins' Stanley Cup appearances--that time between the loss to Detroit and the 7-game fight to the finish victory over the same team the following season. Hockey fever had taken over Pittsburgh, attracting enough bandwagon fans to gobble up any remaining season tickets and creating hockey hysteria through southwestern PA. The boys were no exception to the growing list of fans and I thought I'd jump on the opportunity to introduce them to the Mighty Ducks franchise. Unfortunately, my best-laid plans flopped. They couldn't sit still long enough and the questions...ooooh the questions. On the next babysitting trip, I tried a DVD on Sidney Crosby. Maybe a behind-the-scenes look at someone whose name they recognized. As soon as the DVD was in the player, Outspoken Twin's questions started:

Outspoken Twin: Is that Sidney Crosby?
Outspoken Twin: Is that Mario Lemieux?
Outspoken Twin: Are those old uniforms?
Outspoken Twin: Are those the Mighty Ducks?
Outspoken Twin: Is that the new uniform?
Outspoken Twin: Do you like baseball?
Outspoken Twin: Do you have a hockey jersey?
Outspoken Twin: Do you play hockey?
Outspoken Twin: Have you met Sidney Crosby?
Outspoken Twin: Do you like the Red Sox or the Yankees?
Outspoken Twin: Have you been to a hockey game?
Outspoken Twin: Did you get a bobblehead at the hockey game?
Outspoken Twin: Did they win?
Outspoken Twin: How old are you?

And on. And on. And on.

Questions about the DVD, unrelated questions, probably some Star Wars questions. The onslaught continued for the duration of the 45-minute DVD, though at one point Quiet Twin did shush him. As I have become a master at planning, the DVD ended and it was conveniently bedtime. I told them to head upstairs and start with the routine. I gave them a head start because, honestly, I needed a few moments of silence. The family's fluffy white cat emerged from its hiding spot and walked toward me with a loud "meow." As I stared at the cat, I slowly became aware of an argument going on up the stairs. Outspoken Twin was clearly bullying Quiet Twin over something. Outspoken Twin's questioning was in a quiet, urgent whisper; Quiet Twin's response each time was a whiny, two-syllable "Noo-oo."

Not moving, cat twined around my legs, I yelled a warning: "Boyyys."

The argument hushed before flaring again. Suddenly, Outspoken Twin yelled down the stairs: "[Quiet Twin] wants to know if you have a booyyyyfrieeeend!!"

Quiet Twin's protests were immediate: "No I didn't! He's lyyyyying!"

By this point, the cat had disappeared, probably afraid the shouting meant the boys would soon be thundering back down the stairs. Realizing my moment of silence, that was really not silent at all, was over, I headed up the stairs. Little Brother was already in bed. Head on pillow, covers up, limbs akimbo and halfway off the bed. Walking down the hall, Quiet Twin started as soon as I crossed the threshold. "I didn't ask if you had a boyfriend." His body language was closed. Arms crossed. Dejected look on his face.

"I know." Was all I said. The last guy/girl conversation Quiet Twin and I had included a vehement vow to never marry. I patted him on the head and turned out the light.

Bracing myself, I entered Outspoken Twin's room and crossed my arms. He pleaded his innocence in the case of the boyfriend question, but I had watched these boys far too long to fall for that. I told him he needed to leave his brothers alone, then asked what prayer requests he had (greatly relieved their kitchen remodel was complete.) We chatted, as was our custom. Mostly him asking a series of questions, me answering as best I could. No, I still did not know what Star Wars character he was talking about. And then came the question that had clearly been troubling him all night:

Outspoken Twin: So...you don't have a boyfriend?

I shook my head, not sure if he was going to propose to me or what.

Outspoken Twin: And...you're twenty-four?

I nodded. At my affirmative response, his brow furrowed in a look of consternation. I asked if everything was alright.

Outspoken Twin: Well...you're twenty-four and you don't have a boyfriend. (shrug) I'm just sayin'!!

What a punk.

Seriously.