MonkeyPants

Saturday Night Babysitting

It’s something I don’t do so often, but for Morgan and Tara, it is no hardship. For one thing, Tara is the best cook in the city, maybe the universe, and their fridge is always full of lovely things. Today I have eaten approximately 83 pulled-pork sandwiches with barbecue sauce, the creamiest, tangiest potato salad in the Western World, and been handed a Responsible Babysitter mojito, from mixmaster Morgan. Then they went out and left me responsible for their daughter, their dog Max, who is maybe a descendant of the Godolphin Arabian or else a giraffe, and their awesome technology. I think their TV is from outer space.

Today Morgan gave me an out as Simone has been ill, and he felt that I should not be subject to anything undue coming out of either end of the child. However, I was not dissuaded. You see, the thing is, I am actually very good with human effluvia. I was the girl at the party who could clean up the puke without, herself, throwing up. Is it an X-Man skill? I don’t know. But I can remember cleaning up puke and giggling madly with my friend Kevin, in Port Hardy. He was another one who could deal with barf, and we were so excited and happy to meet kindred puke-proof spirits in each other. It was surreal. We each had thought we were alone in the world, the only ones who could handle the noxious task, and then there were two of us against the puking world. It was amazing!

But I digress. Morgan stayed until Simone went to bed, and she had a few mood swings, but nothing serious, so I told him to go to the wedding. He set me up with the TV remote and that was it all.

They have just arrived home, happy to have had some time off. I’m glad I could do that. Oh, and watch True Blood.