Highlights of Children: A Companion Piece to "A Case for Procreation"

Here is a belated, but brief, highlight reel of Tuesday's babysitting adventure:

The Three-Year-Old Boy:

Sat on the floor with me, crawled into my lap, gave me a hug and said, "I love you."

-Yeah, I bet you do you manipulative, little expletive deleted. For I am the giver of apple slices and peanut butter sandwiches and therefore THE GIVER OF LIFE. Fine, GIVER OF LIFE is a bit much just GIVER OF SNACKS then.

As I was changing the one-year-old's diaper, to prepare her for a nap, the three-year- old saw the bottle of milk waiting for his sister, grabbed it and said, "Oh no, this is much too hot for baby sister!" He then ran into the kitchen, out of my sight, and prepared to do God knows what to the bottle. I, of course, can't follow him. He returns, triumphantly, and I ask, "What did you put in the bottle?." I don't know why I asked he is going to tell me milk even if he put bleach in it. So I take everyone back to the kitchen and prepare another bottle for the napper. Better safe than sorry.

-FYI that bottle was NOT too hot.

I ask the boy, "Where is your brain?" and he points to his crotch. To be honest he could have been pointing to his stomach or liver. He was obscured by the couch.

-Not the first little boy I have seen or heard of doing this. I'm sure if you asked a little girl she would point to her head or if you want to get stereotypical and saccharine maybe even her heart.

After changing his diaper he tells me he needs another change not ten minutes later.

-Okay, that's just typical and annoying.

He kicked me or threw his shoe some act of senseless child-on-babysitter violence and I tell him, "That was not nice. It was uncalled for and you need to apologize to me right now." He throws himself on the floor and screams, "I CAN'T SAY SORRY TO YOU!"

-He might of meant he WON'T say sorry or he could have just not known how to pronounce my name.

Overall, the boy was a handful but manageable. There were few meltdowns and he came out of any hissy fit quickly. I threatened him with "time-outs" but he never actually needed one. I never threatened him with the age-old, "You better behave just wait until your father gets home."

The One-Year-Old Girl:

She was not a handful. Her worst offenses were: not napping, throwing her bottle out of her crib and thievery. Mostly, trying to pry my cell phone from my pocket and attempting to hijack whatever her brother was eating. She is at that stage when eating is fascinating and you can't feed her fast enough. The world is her restaurant. She'll have what you're having and she wants it RIGHT NOW! FASTER MINION! PICK UP THAT BOTTLE I JUST THREW AND GIVE ME THAT SANDWICH!

This exercise has still brought me no closer to a decision about having children of my own or not. Maybe I need another day with the three-year-old...nah, I'm good.