Part 30 (2/2)
”Calling me Peeg is the best way to ensure I won't help you with whatever it is you need.”
”Get over yourself, Peeg. We need you to babysit this weekend.”
Todd has never asked me to watch his children before. For some reason, I'd been painted with the ”irresponsible” brush after that time I accidentally gave the kids a book of matches.197 ”I'm your last resort, aren't I?”
”Pretty much. Jean's sisters are all busy and her parents will be out of town. Mom was going to sit this weekend, but the doctor says she can't lift anything and she isn't well enough yet to drive herself down here.”198 ”Why doesn't Dad drive her?”
”The play-offs are on and he doesn't want to go anywhere.”
I made an exception to my children-hating rule for Todd's kids. They're actually kind of fun, plus if I spoil them rotten now, I can eventually use them against my brother.199 Still, they are a handful and because they're human petri dishes, they always contaminate me. I generally spend the week after seeing them in bed surrounded by Kleenex, a vaporizer, and empty mugs sticky from hot lemonades. ”Yeah, I don't think it's going to work. Sorry.”
”Why not?”
”I don't like you enough to help you.”
”It's not for me, it's for Jean. I've got to cover a game that night, but Jean's going away for a sorority reunion. If you don't come, she'll miss it.”
Damm it, he had to go and throw the Jean card. She's the best thing that ever happened to our family. If we were the Munsters, she'd be our Marilyn. Never once has Jean pretended to shoot other Stone Mountain tourists with her golf umbrella while singing ”The Sound of Music,”200 described in loving detail the corned beef she once had in Dubuque, Iowa, in 1984, while having no recollection of her child's middle name,201 or walked out of the house without remembering to put on pants.202 Wearily, I consent. ”OK, fine. When should I be there?”
”Tomorrow night around five. Thanks, Peeg.”
”Bite me.”
”One more thing: The kids are afraid of bees, wasps, and hornets. See you tomorrow.”
Huh?
You know what? Driving down to Todd's is actually a good idea. I'll have five hours each way to figure out what to do about the job. Plus I'll get to listen to all the cheesy music I like so much but am too embarra.s.sed to play in front of other people.203 I stop for gas and snacks, and in a heroic moment of self-control, I decide against the Hostess cupcakes. The Atkins diet has been working, and I rather like not having my pants hurt anymore. I go low carb and opt for a Diet Dr Pepper and some sunflower seeds. I snicker to myself because I bet Fletch just felt a chill go down his spine. I've been banned from eating them in the car since the Sunflower Seed-Stravaganza (and subsequent Car Vacuuming-Stravaganza) in 1996. What can I say? I have lousy aim.
When I get to Todd's house, the children hurl themselves at me. Max, being the middle child, feels like a cannonball when he crashes into my stomach. With Cam, the eldest, it's more like being hit with a side of beef or perhaps a small freight train.
My brother stands in the doorway laden with photography equipment and a laptop case. ”Bye, kids. I'm going now.” He steps outside and then ducks his head back in. ”Jen, I almost forgot. The kids have already had dinner, so they should be all set. Also, try not to let Max see you eating.”
”Why not?” I'm puzzled by such an odd request.
”If he sees you eat any food he doesn't like, he'll throw up.”
”Gross! But I'm hungry, so tell me what he does like.”
”Chicken fingers, candy, and surprisingly, clams.”
As soon as Todd leaves, Cam begins his eighteen-hour monolog about the benefits of owning Yu-Gi-Oh trading cards, and I have a strange premonition of him someday trying to sell me a time-share. Little Sarah reminds me that she is pretty.
I set the kids in front of the DVD player while I clean up their dinner dishes. I'm determined to have Todd and Jean return to a sparkling house because I want it to look like I can handle things (and to convince them they would NOT have been better letting the neighbor's rottweiler watch the kids). I start to Girl Scout up the joint, leaving it in even better condition than I'd found it.
”Hey, Jen, can I have a gla.s.s of water?”
”Me, too.”
”No, I don't like that gla.s.s. Can I have another?”
”Why did you put ice in here? Ice makes my tongue ouchy.”
”Can I have a Mountain Dew instead?”
”I pretty!”
”Where's my straw?”
”Max spilled his again.”
”TELL CAM NOT TO TOUCH ME.”
”I berry pretty!”
”Can we have some popcorn?”
”No, we like the kind with b.u.t.ter.”
”This doesn't taste right. Can you put some sugar in it?”
”WHEN IS MOM COMING HOME?”
”I like 'nakes!”
”Jen, can I change my s.h.i.+rt?”
”Hey, the DVD is skipping!”
”Can we watch Like Mike again?”
”I have to use the potty.”
”I have to use the potty, too.”
”I make potty in my pants!”
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