“MeeMaw, when I grow up, I’m going to be a babysitter!” Zoe told me while she was playing with Play-Doh (pink, of course). “I will change her clothes, feed her, wash her, and change her diaper!” Apparently Zoe will only babysit little girls when she grows up.
“MeeMaw, when you grow up, you should be a babysitter, too! It will be fun!”
“I dunno. I think I want to be a cowboy when I grow up!” I told her. “NO! I want to be a fireman! No, I mean fire girl. And when Mommy and you grow up, you can be fire girls too!” So when Zoe grows up, and her mommy and I grow up, we can all be fire girls together, ride in a fire truck, and squirt fires with hoses. Hunh. I will be sliding down the pole to leap into the firetruck when I’m 70ish. I might better up my workout regimen from not at all to occasionally.
“Can we be babysitter fire girls? Can we squirt the babies with hoses?” I asked hopefully, which probably means that I will never be allowed to be a babysitter. I’m sure the government is putting this in a file on me somewhere.
“NO, MeeMaw! Hoses are ONLY for FIRES, not babies!”
“MeeMaw, there’s an antfly!”
“Well, I need to see what an antfly looks like. Where is it?”
“I don’t know! I think it abra cadabra itself, and now it invisible.”
Don’t you just hate it when antflies do that?
Guess it’s time to go to the grocery store because Zoe is crying. It seems Dylan abra cadabrad her into a frog with her magic dragonfly wand. Stuffed animals are flying, and it is only a matter of moments before something gets broken, or SwampMan is smacked in the face by a flying monkey while he naps.
They’re going back to Mommy and Daddy tomorrow, and there will be no antflies, or magic wands, or stuffed animal wars or wide awake children at 1 a.m. This time around, I savor childhood for I know how fleeting it is.