FAT SQUABS

(Mancow and me)

My Mother loved me and my sister very much, but she was not fond of other people’s children.  She called young people “fat squabs.” I never had any children.  I never wanted to have any children because they would have gotten in the way of my life.  I always wished my sister had decided to have children so I could have spoiled them and been the eccentric Aunt Kathy. I find it enjoyable visiting with friend’s offspring, but I am always glad when they go away.  I am good for an hour tops with those less than 21 years of age—with a few exceptions. Given my history of not caring about little people, it is obvious that I probably was never hired to baby sit in my younger years.

I wrote about my feelings for children last November  so none of this should come as a surprise to anyone.

Up until now, the only time I have been totally in control of a baby is when, years ago, my friend Stephanie Dillard had a doctor’s appointment at Northwestern Hospital, close to my home and could not find a sitter.  I forget which of her and Kirk’s babies it was! All she needed me to do was to sit in the waiting room and watch the baby in its carriage.  I was petrified that something would happen on my watch.  The fact that I was surrounded by hundreds of nurses and doctors did not matter.  I figured, with my luck, the baby would cry or spit and I would be as helpless as it was in not knowing what to do.  Obviously, the baby survived. 

On Tuesday, I received a call from my friend Mancow who asked what I was doing Friday night.   He prefaced the conversation by saying that he had already called everybody he knew and he really needed me.  I knew what was coming.  I was scared in anticipation of the request from someone I love and would do anything for.  It was exactly what I feared.  He asked me to baby sit his twin six-year old girls.  I have been with these children many times and they are the best-behaved adorable young ladies. (I only like pretty children.  Ask my friend Linda.)  To be alone with them for hours though would be a daunting task.

I asked Mancow not to give them dinner first, so I could waste some time feeding them.  I have an indoor pool in my condo building, so that could be fun.  But should I wait after eating to let them swim?  I better check on that old wives tale that you are not supposed to supervise children up to an hour after dining.

I have no toys to play with, so I hope they bring something with them.  I don’t want to go out and buy anything because then I would be known as the person who has toys for children and other people might drop off their kids.  Children can smell toys a mile away and might start flocking.

I decided to cheat a bit.  I called a friend with a 5 year old son and invited them over Friday night.  Now there will be a grown up in the house, I feel much safer.