Last night Demetri and I pretended we were real people. As in we made last minute plans and went to the movies. Awwwww yeeah! We even got a sitter. And not just any sitter. We got the Baby Whisperer (Hi FC!). The girl has skillz. Mad skillz. Babies and toddlers are putty in her gentle hands. And the Baby Whisperer has really good hair. Seriously. Every time I see her I am envious of her gorgeous long brown hair.
Part of the reason we adore the Baby Whisperer is her ability to hold a sincere and interested face. Like when we tell her where the chicken nuggets are for the third time. Or when we quiz her about the location of the pediatrician’s phone number. The number for the doctor is on the fridge. The fridge. Got it? Now point to the fridge . . . Ok. We’re not that bad. But we’re close.
But here’s the thing. When we leave, we feel totally comfortable. Well . . . after we call her from the car to tell her something we forgot. And then have a 5 minute discussion about if it’s OK to call her yet again to tell her to leave Zoey’s long sleeve shirt on under her pajamas or if that will put the Baby Whisperer over the edge and she will vow to never sit for us again. So we don’t make the second call. Instead we make plans to cover Zoey with an extra flannel blanket when we get home. The pink striped blanket is almost the exact same weight as a shirt . . . But anyway. That (crazy) stuff is about us. Not the Baby Whisperer.
And get this? When we get home, the Baby Whisperer is watching HGTV. I mean, how cute is that? She’s not watching porn. She’s not watching Fox News. She is watching a home and garden show, people. And, most important of all, when we get home Zoey is safe and warm in her crib. A slight smile on her face, dreaming of her night with the Baby Whisperer. Dreaming of her night as a real person without her parents — a night when last minute plans were made and she got spend time with her hero.