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Adventures in Baby-sitting:
By TERRY MILLER
The Scatological Sequel
I love all creatures with or without hair or somewhere in between. So when my brother asked me to baby-sit his nine-month-old son one Friday night, I agreed without hesitation.
Although I’ve never had a child, let alone baby-sat one, my experience with pettable puppies and cute kitties, in my mind, put me on par with being an expert.
That evening, my brother and his wife delivered the child to my house fast asleep in a charming little carrying case; it looked like a chic picnic basket with a little-bitty ham inside.
“Two hours? A piece of cake,” I assured them as they walked toward the door to leave.
Of course, it wasn’t quite that simple. I had a succession of lectures from the sister-in-law about feeding, burping, diapers, rash, cream, blankets, cat hair on the floor, and the dog’s tongue after it licked himself.
Thirty minutes later, I assured them that a man of my stature could handle watching his nephew.
When they had finally gone, I carefully lifted the sleeping baby from the basket and laid him on the couch. Removing his diaper with the full intent of putting on a fresh one, I grabbed a cold beer and the TV remote. I had just found my favorite show, Cooking From the Waist Up, when Mr. Schlitz, my cat, pounced from the back of the couch onto the kid’s chest. The baby’s eyes popped open like a couple of beer tabs. Spotting the cat hovering like a bad hangover, the toddler let out a scream that made the cat’s hair stand on end.
I made a grab for kitty but to no avail. A puff of air exited the youngster’s lungs as the crouched cat sprang with its full weight into a nearby chair. The wails coming from that tiny body were relentless.
I yelled for Butane, my boxer, to consume the cat, but he was too busy licking his butt to be concerned.
Grabbing the infant, I cuddled him near my chest and softly patted his back. As the wailing gradually subsided, a smile eased across my face, followed by a sigh of relief. But liberation was short-lived as I felt what seemed like warm beer penetrate my shirt.
The cat had activated the kid’s sprinkler system.
Holding the child at arm’s length, the stream shot like a park fountain. I was in a full sprint to the kitchen to grab a clothespin when the flow suddenly subsided. I stared intently at the baby’s face; he seemed at peace with himself; the well had run dry.
Gently lying the child back on the couch, I grabbed a roll of paper towels and had just finished dabbing my shirt dry when I turned to see Butane lovingly licking the kid’s face.
“Butane!” I barked. Startled, the dog crapped at the kid’s feet before bolting out the doggie door.
The front door then slammed. It was my brother. “Hey, I saw your dog tearing down the road like something scared the crap out of him.”
My jaw dropped like a lead meatball.
“You aren’t going to believe this, but we got to the show and found out our tickets aren’t good until tomorrow night. How dumb is that?” he asked.
“Ye-ye-yeah, dense,” I stammered. “Wh-where’s Sonja?”
“She’s coming. She’s trying to call your dog ba . . .” His sentence ended like a lung had burst. “My God! What did you feed my kid?”
I was just about to explain how Butane has anxiety attacks, when his wife came through the door. Being a mother, the first thing she spotted was a pile of poo the size of ping-pong balls piled near her son. She let out a scream that made the cat’s hair stand on end.
What followed wasn’t pretty. Suffice it to say, I do have visitation rights with my nephew, but he will never again see his uncle’s house without parental supervision.
Marriage? I don’t think so.
Okay, the last piece of the puzzle:
Glazed Baby Carrots
My sister-in-law passed along this recipe before she decided to be a baby and not speak to me. You will need the following ingredients:
2 lbs baby carrots
1-1⁄2 cups water
1 Tbs brown sugar
2 Tbs butter
1⁄2 cup orange juice
Pour the carrots into a large skillet and add water. Cover and bring to a boil over high heat. Once it begins to boil, lower the heat to medium and simmer the carrots until they are tender, 15 to 25 minutes, depending on how big they are. When tender, remove the lid and simmer and add sugar, juice and butter. Mix well and cook over high heat again until most of the liquid has evaporated, stirring occasionally to coat the carrots. Sweet and delicious!
You can contact Terry Miller at cookingbachelorstyle@mountainhomemag.com. His Web site is cookingbachelorstyle.wordpress.com
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