Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Blogged by popular request
I spent my Friday night babysitting an adorable pair of midgets with Tracy. They belong to a woman that she knows from work. Sammy is a toddler, still in diapers, but very smart and talkative. Niya is about a year old (I realize I have no idea how to spell her name, especially since I kept accidentally calling her "Nyla"). They were both adopted by this woman and her partner (and I feel really bad that I can't remember either of their names, especially since it means that my memory is turning to utter shite), and they just got Niya not that long ago. We were Niya's first babysitters.
We watched two videos and I crawled around the floor after Niya because while she likes walking around she stumbles like a tiny drunk and I had to keep a hand on her stomach to catch her. She's such a little peanut. She reminds me of my cousin Kerryann's daughter, Tia, when she was a baby. It was a bit of a trial getting her to bed, but we let her cry it out and she was down for the duration.
But the fun didn't really start until Tracy decided it was time to change the boy. Since we arrived he had a sippy cup of milk and a sippy cup of "formula" (malted milk to drink while Niya has her formula) so he was running with a full tank. And he started peeing all over himself, on his stomach and down his back. We asked him if he was done. Of course, he said yes, so we stood him up and cleaned the mess. And he started peeing on the floor. And he did it one more time after we moved him again. We were momentarily caught in a weird sit-com dimension. Tracy rushed him to his little potty with the shield in front for little boys to put their little thing under.
We kept asking him if he was done with the peeing and he would say yes and pee some more. After about twenty minutes of him on the potty and us sitting on the side of the tub, Tracy asked me if we were possibly doing mental damage to this boy, you know, by staring at his privates for almost half-an-hour. But he was having a great time, pointing out everything in the bathroom for us, the two stepping stools, the colors in the shower curtain, the sink, the towels, my hair, his pee-pee, everything. The child never stops smiling.
The peeing finally ended and he was diapered up. Tracy felt bad that the psycho cat had been in the basement ever since we got there and let him out. The cat is fine with Sammy but every time we got near it, the damn thing hissed and swiped at our feet. We made Sammy go ahead of us every time we had to walk by the cat to check Niya. And then Sammy turned into a wacky, fidgety, little worm, which we discovered was code for, "I'm freakin' tired, bitches! Put me to bed!" So we did, and he went down without any problem, which really surprised his moms, almost as much as the fact that he used the potty. They wanted us to come and put him to bed every night.
We watched two videos and I crawled around the floor after Niya because while she likes walking around she stumbles like a tiny drunk and I had to keep a hand on her stomach to catch her. She's such a little peanut. She reminds me of my cousin Kerryann's daughter, Tia, when she was a baby. It was a bit of a trial getting her to bed, but we let her cry it out and she was down for the duration.
But the fun didn't really start until Tracy decided it was time to change the boy. Since we arrived he had a sippy cup of milk and a sippy cup of "formula" (malted milk to drink while Niya has her formula) so he was running with a full tank. And he started peeing all over himself, on his stomach and down his back. We asked him if he was done. Of course, he said yes, so we stood him up and cleaned the mess. And he started peeing on the floor. And he did it one more time after we moved him again. We were momentarily caught in a weird sit-com dimension. Tracy rushed him to his little potty with the shield in front for little boys to put their little thing under.
We kept asking him if he was done with the peeing and he would say yes and pee some more. After about twenty minutes of him on the potty and us sitting on the side of the tub, Tracy asked me if we were possibly doing mental damage to this boy, you know, by staring at his privates for almost half-an-hour. But he was having a great time, pointing out everything in the bathroom for us, the two stepping stools, the colors in the shower curtain, the sink, the towels, my hair, his pee-pee, everything. The child never stops smiling.
The peeing finally ended and he was diapered up. Tracy felt bad that the psycho cat had been in the basement ever since we got there and let him out. The cat is fine with Sammy but every time we got near it, the damn thing hissed and swiped at our feet. We made Sammy go ahead of us every time we had to walk by the cat to check Niya. And then Sammy turned into a wacky, fidgety, little worm, which we discovered was code for, "I'm freakin' tired, bitches! Put me to bed!" So we did, and he went down without any problem, which really surprised his moms, almost as much as the fact that he used the potty. They wanted us to come and put him to bed every night.
Labels: Adventures in Babysitting
