Infant Queen

On Saturday I did the unspeakable: I babysat. It's not that I dislike babies, on the contrary actually. They have great bed head and they sport eccentric rompers. I love babies but babysitting was not in my repetoire. Well, there I was Saturday afternoon with cut off jeans and a mental list of activities: cartoons, basketball, nap time, apples and juice. Oh, was I deceived. Alyssa, the 3 year old, had other plans for me. She is a blond curly haired babe with the will of a Roman emperor. I swear to you, when she was screaming and balling her firsts, resisting "night night" (nap time) I imagined her in a crimson cape and gladiator sandals, about to rule the masses. Who was I to put this little Monarch to bed? She was regal as she attempted to devour her plastic peas and doughnuts. After some cooing and a little "Goodnight Moon" I got her to drink her bottle, and as she sucked it down I couldn't help but smirk, thinking I had coaxed her into drinking the magic potion. I lay her down in her crib, covered her with her blanket, and shut the door, but not all the way. Oh me oh my was that a mistake. I crept down the stairs, hoping to tidy up the dolls Alyssa had terrorized. All of a sudden, I heard a stampede of baby footsteps. Suddenly, baby Alyssa sweetly yelled "hi!" No voice has ever put such fear down my spine. "You were supposed to go night night" I said. "Let's play!" she replied. I was toast. An hour later, she was tuckered out. I stood over the crib watching her; she resisted sleep even as it took over her eyes. I puttered downstairs like a nervous mother. I couldn't watch TV, couldn't eat. I flipped through Sports Illustrated like an imposter and checked on Alyssa's breathing every so often. Finally, the rest of the family returned, including big kids Zach and Olivia. The parents gave me a few tips, and headed out the door. I was relieved to have the older two with me, finally some compatriots! Zach and I played a little one-on-one; he had an excellent flick of the wrist and lay up. Olivia and I preferred to gossip. She sat on the bathroom floor and gave me the dirt on her friends and their love lives, and the nice boys who played "spy" with her during snack time. They helped me put Alyssa to bed; they took turns reading to her and as we left the room, Olivia pulled the door firmly shut. "She can get out of her crib, you know. You have to pull the door shut all the way." I feigned surprise. "Is that so?" and we walked downstairs for a little dessert.