Today I was a suburban housewife. My mother usually watches nephew HappyWill during the day, but she requested help since she was suffering from a cold. How can one say to their only mother, just a few days after Christmas, that he can not help out with the kid, especially considering that he is off from work anyway? If there is a way to do that, I would like to know. Manhattan was still misty and the skyscrapers apparently constructed from vapor when I caught the train in Hoboken to points west that morning.
HappyWill and I took went to the supermarket. He insisted on using a shopping cart that has the front of a car on it. This cart did not fit too well in the aisles, or the door for that matter. I steered it into the door and a bang. HappyWill commented, "You crash". He has been trained to munch a donut while in the store to keep him occupied. I could barely see him at all in the car-cart contraption. While waiting to check out, HappyWill handed me the rest of donut back. In the parking lot as he was getting back in his carseat, he suddenly had a Peppermint Patty. Well I didn't buy him that! We left the parking lot in a hurry to avoid suspicion.
The playground population consisted of other mothers and their children. Occasionally a father with his kids would drag his kids in and wait impatiently. I pushed HappyWill on the swing, which is, as he is smart enough to know, the best part of the playground. One girl was blocking the entrance to the slide. I asked her to move a bit--her father glared at me. What is playground etiquette for adults? Are we required to chat about the kids? I ignored them. Some of the other parents looked rather young--perhaps they are my classmates from high school. Perhaps they were aunts or cousins shoved off with the kids. A year or so ago when HappyWIll and I were waiting in line at the post office, a lady was chatting with me about the kid, his age, whatever. She asked how old he was. I just shrugged and gave an estimate--she look horrified that I didn't know exactly. After I explained that he is my nephew, she told me that she was wondering why I had such a young child. She admitted that she had been constructing some elaborate back-story about the kid being some high school love-child.
I broke the cardinal rule of babysitting. Since the kid was acting fine and had just recovered from a cold, I finished his donut and shared a glass of water with him. Naturally, in the afternoon he suddenly has a 101 temperature. I am waiting for my virus to manifest. All children are bags of germs.
