The Philosopher and I joined a new team last night. The Babysitters Club 2.0. Ever heard of it? Version 1.0 was (is?) a never-ending book series about teenage babysitters in suburban America. In 2.0, the whole plot crosses the Atlantic and follows twenty somethings in their various kid-watching escapades.
It’s great. You should join the club.
Our previous (read: only) babysitting opp happened about a year ago, for two girls around the corner from us, aged 1 and 3. We were assured by Mummy that they never wake, and even if they did, they should definitely be left to cry for a while. “Really, at all costs, you shouldn’t go up. Just relax! Watch a film.”
We settled in happily and about 30 minutes later one of them started wailing and coughing. I don’t know about you, but a crying child is pretty hard to ignore. After 12 tortuous minutes we went upstairs, only to find that the poor kid had thrown up in her sleep and was covered in vomit, and afraid. “I’ve been sick.” She said, sniffling. After some fairly intense vomit-cleanup, we could only agree.
So that was the first time.
And last night, we squared our shoulders and walked through those clubhouse doors again. Our god-daughter needed watching while parents had a date night on the town at a concert. This previous memory of the first time having sufficiently wasted away in our minds, we packed up a few snacks and brought a movie, settling into a comfy couch for a mini date of our own.
Right on time, that is about 30 minutes in, the cutest little whimpery coughs sounded out from upstairs. My godmothering instinct kicked but the Philosopher, ever cautious (or into the movie), held me back.
Two minutes later saw the Philosopher leaning on the railing in the hall, singing hymns while I bounced the baby, humming along, in the nursery, wearing her mother’s fleece dressing gown. The crucial element of disguise.
We had a few tears, but after she lost interest in the Philosopher (and this took a while, let me tell you); after we bundled into the rocking chair, making up lullaby lyrics which I’m just glad no one else had to hear (rhyming is hard!), rivulets of sweat dripping down my forehead from the heat of wearing someone else’s dressing gown over my clothes as her warm little baby body nestled into my side; after a mini wrestling match where she tried to detach my lips from my face; after all of this, sweet sleep settled onto Lydia. [Heck, I almost sang myself to sleep it was so dark and warm and cosy in that chair.] And then she was perfect, lying in her crib, hands behind her head, eyes closed.
It felt sort of epic. I’m not sure I’m over it yet. And certainly not deterred from v. 3.0. Any takers?!
p.s. blog title = most enchanting lullaby ever