I have three errands to accomplish. My estimated time of return is two and one half hours. I will probably create a fourth errand if time permits. Off we go.
We hustle. The first two errands are complete within an hour. I curb the urge to phone home reassuring myself that the babysitter will phone if there is a problem. Besides, I do not want to wake up sleeping baby.
The next errand is long and is finally complete in one hour. We decide to tackle the fourth errand which takes a mere twelve minutes. Whew! Errands are finished for the day. And that saves me from having to tote two girls tomorrow.
We return home after two hours and twelve minutes. Just eighteen minutes earlier than our estimated return.
We enter the house through the back door. The house seems to be extraordinarily quiet. The babysitter's car is still parked in its spot.
Upon further investigation, we discover a trail of spoons on the kitchen floor. The spoons lead us into the playroom. The playroom is disorderly. Crayons have been strewn all over the hardwoods. (I'll probably discover a waxy diaper later.) We continue our search for baby and babysitter.
We spy a couple of crayons in the foyer and leading into the living room. The crayons lead us to plants... and more specifically, dirt. Dirt which has been expelled from its pot. And most likely ingested into some little person's belly.
Following the dirt trail, no baby in bedroom number one. No baby in bedroom number two. We venture into bedroom number three. Still no baby.
However, the babysitter has been located in bedroom number four. My husband is fast asleep (at four o'clock in the afternoon). And from the master bath, we hear tiny gales of laughter. We peek around the corner and there is baby ... making snow. Tissues and toilet paper have filled the bathroom, several inches thick.
And, yes, that is why I don't hire a babysitter!
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