Edubabble and other Blither

The alarm went off this morning at 4:30 am. I roused my sorry ass out of bed to go to Rust Belt Town to baby-sit—it’s a new Monday thing, it seems. When I arrived at my sister’s, Miss Gabor and Young Andy Hardy (the world’s most pleasant baby) were both still sleeping, so I napped a bit on the couch and watched the Matt Lauer interview with Britney Spears, conveniently provided on the DVR.

Miss Gabor didn’t rise until almost 10 am, and then the fun began. I love her to death, and we had a good time, but, man, she’s bossy. She’s willful. I love it. We colored, and every time I said, “I like this color,” Miss Gabor liked it, too, and promptly commandeered it. We worked together on a lovely masterpiece from her Wiggles coloring book. We watched Calliou and Pinky Dinky Doo, two programs with which I wasn’t formerly familiar. (If I get DVR, however, I doubt they’ll make my “automatically record” queue.) With Calliou, the family adventures of a young boy with a tragically gay name, you get little intermissions interspersed, and these include various puppet skits and lessons on pre-school basics like colors and shapes. Miss Gabor doesn’t care for these. “I don’t like this part. Fast forward”. I did.

We also played Barbies. My doll was Snow White. Without legs or buttocks. Miss Gabor is a champion of the disabled, though, and she didn’t allow Snow White’s limitations hamper her active participation in the day’s activities, which included going to the other Barbie’s house for raspberry cake. Snow White is not a victim. The fairy tale gown helps to hide her affliction, which doesn’t hurt, either.

This, along with building block towers on the sun porch, took us through lunch. It was then that Aunt Chrissy somehow displeased Miss Gabor. It could have been Aunt Chrissy’s denial of a third pack of Welch’s Fruit Snacks. It could have been Aunt Chrissy’s attention to the young Andy. (Miss Gabor is still not sure about him. I think she’s hoping the studio will let him go when his contract’s up.) When I was attending to Andy’s lunch, Miss Gabor moaned, “No one wants to play with me. No one wants to hold me.” I tried to explain, but Miss G. is too two for that.

“Aunt Chrissy loves you and wants to play with you. I’ll be glad to play with you in a minute. ‘Kay?” I smiled warmly.

“Will you play with me?”

“In just a minute. It’s hard to wait, I know, but it’ll be just a little while.”

“Will you play with me?”

(My mother likened it to the old joke about the diner customer who orders a burger and fries, and is told there are no burgers today. “Okay, just the burger, then.”)

When Andy was taken care of, we headed upstairs to Miss Gabor’s suite, where I was cast as Baby Aunt Chrissy and told to take a nap. (Finally, something I was good at, something I understood!) I did as directed. “You’re not eating your eggs!” (The script hadn’t mentioned eating. It seemed we had moved on to improvisation.) I began to eat my eggs. “You’re supposed to be taking a nap!” I got it now. We were doing a revival of Niece Dearest.

It was almost time for their mother to return, so I headed downstairs to pick up toys. Miss Gabor was not into the change of plans. She robustly, seamlessly returned to her role as tragic heroine. I tried singing our theme song (to the tune of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star): “Miss Gabor and Aunt Chrissy, having fun all day long…”

“Don’t say that!!” she wailed/ordered though her tears.

I’m told Miss Gabor has reached that awful age where children no longer take naps although they really need to….

I know I’m ready for mine.