Probably there is no more frequent post on a parental blog than that of the quest for HER. The perfect babysitter.
Too serious in her studies to go crazy for boys, not overburdened with extra curriculars, loves kids. Won't burn down the house or do drugs. We know she exists, out there somewhere. We've heard of sightings in the upper Northwest area. We have yet to experience her ourselves.
Instead, we lust. Wherever we go. After teenage girls. At the pool, we know them by their bikinis. Everyone we categorize - too revealing, too sparkly, too come and get me, etc.
We meet parents with children our age. While only too happy to share the latest about college funds, the best pediatricians, where they go shopping for the baby's shoes, the same parents suddenly clam up and edge away when asked about who watches their kids when they go out.
At the mall, the teenage girls travel in packs. We ask people slightly older than us about their teenaged daughters. With the mall crowd and the friend's kids it is more difficult to discern if they would invite their boyfriend over or go through our stuff whereas the bikini tells us everything we need to know.
Last night we went out to dinner with my parents, the restaurant we were at lost power due to the storm. While everyone in the restaurant waited for the lights to return, one of the hostesses started playing with Evie.
Then, like manna from heaven it happened. "Do you ever need a babysitter?" She asked us. A college student, with serious glasses, no visible tattoos, studying child development psychology asking to watch our children. We exchanged vital information after I picked myself up from the floor.
Is it perfect? No, she lives too far away - but it could happen a couple of times.
Dinner and a movie. Not with her, but together. Blissfully together.
Alone.
