Babysitting Adventures: Q&A sessions (but mostly Q's...)
Well, the joke's on me. After an amazing 10 hour jam session (which in my life means "writing" session) my creative mind has gone blank. It's so *bleeping* aggravating! In lieu of new material, I'll share an old story for a new audience. Maybe it will serve to hotwire my creativity or something...if anything, I hope it puts a smile on your face. It still makes me laugh.
This is the story of three hellions I used to babysit. On rare occasions, I have been called in for an encore performance. However, the ridiculous antics that used to keep me busy back in the day have been replaced by slightly more sedate pursuits. Like video games. To give you a bit more background, the composition of these three little...angels...is as follows. Twins, whom I'll dub "Outspoken Twin" and "Quiet Twin", followed by their younger brother, referred to as "Little Brother."
It was typical in those days that I would arrive after dinner. The trio's parents would take a much-needed break to enjoy a night out betwixt themselves. All three boys would hide from me. Fortunately or unfortunately, I usually saw a foot, heard a giggle, or caught one of them peering out from their hiding place at me. This was the routine. Every. Time. Once they came out of hiding, they'd raid my bag, knowing I always brought movies with me. Outspoken Twin, if you've not yet guessed, always had something to say.
Outspoken Twin: What's this one?
Outspoken Twin: (with great disdain) Um. You brought this one last time.
Outspoken Twin: (dramatic sigh) We already saw this one.
Outspoken Twin: (disgusted) This one's for bayyy-bees.
Outspoken Twin: Um...maybe next time you could bring Star Wars.
My selection wasn't always good enough. And usually Outspoken Twin picked one movie, Quiet Twin would pick another, and Little Brother would vacillate between the two choices. Inevitably, as soon as the movie started, Outspoken Twin would start with more questions.
Outspoken Twin: Who's that?
Outspoken Twin: What are they doing?
Outspoken Twin: Why are they wearing that?
Outspoken Twin: You know that guy in Star Wars that wears that helmet and has that gun?
Me: (internal dialogue) WE AREN'T EVEN WATCHING STAR WARS!!
Questions would continue, throughout the movie and for the duration of the bedtime routine. For those of you who have not spent time around kids, bedtime isn't about going to bed and falling asleep. It's about stalling as long as you can, pushing this person who is not your parent to their limit, just to see how much longer you can stay up. Drinks of water. Pleas of hunger. Need for a different brand of toothpaste.
Quiet Twin and Little Brother typically went to bed pretty easy. By the time the teeth brushing and bathroom breaks were complete, Little Brother barely made it to his bed before passing out. I'd walk in his room to find him half-hanging out of the bed, already drooling. Making my way down the hall to Quiet Twin's room, my knock on the door was usually greeted with a sullen "Go away." Approaching Outspoken Twin's room, I'd always pause and take a deep breath to fortify myself. I'd walk in and there he'd be, pillows propped so he could sit up, hands folded in his lap, waiting. Of course, there were more questions. Bedtime questions were typically the worst. These questions could range from theories on the universe to sports to Obi-Wan's use of the Force. Question dovetailed off of question. I tried to keep him between a 5-10 question limit. At that point, I would remind him that it was bedtime and perhaps pondering such mysteries was a task best saved for his parents.
Outspoken Twin: Oh yeah. Um. Do you know when my mom and dad are going to be home? I had to ask my dad about something...
Oof. Totally opened myself up to that one.
After you're asleep. It was the best tool in my belt. A hopeful death knell to his neverending queries.
And yet, he somehow always found a way around it. One time, as I was standing up to leave, he stopped me: One more question.
Me: Okay. Last question.
Outspoken Twin: (nods in agreement) Okay. Last question--but it has two parts!!
Sneaky kid.
That could serve him well later in life.
This is the story of three hellions I used to babysit. On rare occasions, I have been called in for an encore performance. However, the ridiculous antics that used to keep me busy back in the day have been replaced by slightly more sedate pursuits. Like video games. To give you a bit more background, the composition of these three little...angels...is as follows. Twins, whom I'll dub "Outspoken Twin" and "Quiet Twin", followed by their younger brother, referred to as "Little Brother."
It was typical in those days that I would arrive after dinner. The trio's parents would take a much-needed break to enjoy a night out betwixt themselves. All three boys would hide from me. Fortunately or unfortunately, I usually saw a foot, heard a giggle, or caught one of them peering out from their hiding place at me. This was the routine. Every. Time. Once they came out of hiding, they'd raid my bag, knowing I always brought movies with me. Outspoken Twin, if you've not yet guessed, always had something to say.
Outspoken Twin: What's this one?
Outspoken Twin: (with great disdain) Um. You brought this one last time.
Outspoken Twin: (dramatic sigh) We already saw this one.
Outspoken Twin: (disgusted) This one's for bayyy-bees.
Outspoken Twin: Um...maybe next time you could bring Star Wars.
My selection wasn't always good enough. And usually Outspoken Twin picked one movie, Quiet Twin would pick another, and Little Brother would vacillate between the two choices. Inevitably, as soon as the movie started, Outspoken Twin would start with more questions.
Outspoken Twin: Who's that?
Outspoken Twin: What are they doing?
Outspoken Twin: Why are they wearing that?
Outspoken Twin: You know that guy in Star Wars that wears that helmet and has that gun?
Me: (internal dialogue) WE AREN'T EVEN WATCHING STAR WARS!!
Questions would continue, throughout the movie and for the duration of the bedtime routine. For those of you who have not spent time around kids, bedtime isn't about going to bed and falling asleep. It's about stalling as long as you can, pushing this person who is not your parent to their limit, just to see how much longer you can stay up. Drinks of water. Pleas of hunger. Need for a different brand of toothpaste.
Quiet Twin and Little Brother typically went to bed pretty easy. By the time the teeth brushing and bathroom breaks were complete, Little Brother barely made it to his bed before passing out. I'd walk in his room to find him half-hanging out of the bed, already drooling. Making my way down the hall to Quiet Twin's room, my knock on the door was usually greeted with a sullen "Go away." Approaching Outspoken Twin's room, I'd always pause and take a deep breath to fortify myself. I'd walk in and there he'd be, pillows propped so he could sit up, hands folded in his lap, waiting. Of course, there were more questions. Bedtime questions were typically the worst. These questions could range from theories on the universe to sports to Obi-Wan's use of the Force. Question dovetailed off of question. I tried to keep him between a 5-10 question limit. At that point, I would remind him that it was bedtime and perhaps pondering such mysteries was a task best saved for his parents.
Outspoken Twin: Oh yeah. Um. Do you know when my mom and dad are going to be home? I had to ask my dad about something...
Oof. Totally opened myself up to that one.
After you're asleep. It was the best tool in my belt. A hopeful death knell to his neverending queries.
And yet, he somehow always found a way around it. One time, as I was standing up to leave, he stopped me: One more question.
Me: Okay. Last question.
Outspoken Twin: (nods in agreement) Okay. Last question--but it has two parts!!
Sneaky kid.
That could serve him well later in life.
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