There is a sticky film covering the keyboard for no reason other than the fact that there are children in the house. The radio is on: “Canadians, get your Obama inaguaration memorabilia now!” Way to commercialize, guys. And not even on events occuring in your own country. You never hear “Canadians, get your Harper memorabilia now!” do you? No you don’t – who gives a damn about Canadian politics anyways? What a joke.
Anyhow, back on point, I am at my ex-English-teacher’s house, babysitting his kids. The smallest was asleep by the time I arrived, and the two older boys (about six and four, but I’ve never had a good memory for age, not even my own) have just gone down. Now it’s just me, and two hours, to be paid minimum wage to do my own stuff.
In the books of any normal person, this would be the ultimate job. Babysitting without, for the main part, looking after children. However… I have more fun when they’re awake. I’d look after them awake for a few hours rather than doing my thing while they sleep any day.
Why? They’re great kids. (Not to mention brilliant – the eldest, who’s only in grade one, blew my socks off when I overheard him go, “Mom, you’re so sarcastic, you goof!” Grade one! The boy is six!) They love transformers and can pretend they are transformers for hours on end.
The youngest, just a year old this December past, has two favorite toys: a hollow, plastic, green, stick (the stick, for the record, has recently entered the Toy Hall of Fame, alongside things like Barbie, the slinky, and the yo-yo) and – get this – heating vents. First he was enamored with the warm air blowing out of them, then he figured out you could pull out the vent, carry it around, and yell at it (and of course, leave it in the middle of the kitchen for someone to “find”) and finally he’s found out you can stuff things down the vent once you’ve taken the cover off and your mum freaks out.
The middle boy is just the cutest thing – definitely overshadowed by his brother, he goes along with whatever. He has humongous downturned eyes, and I’m always so worried he’s about to burst into tears (most of the time, he’s actually quite happy, it’s just hard to tell sometimes) Accompany this with a willingness to believe any RPG, a great brain (he’s the product of an English teacher and a microbiology professor, for crying out loud!) and you basically get the cutest, cuddliest thing ever.
Back on point (well, the intended point.) I love kids. These boys in particular, as they’re such great children, but I think I love kids on the whole. I didn’t think I did… but I do.
Playing with the boys for an hour is more fun than I’ve had in a month and I’m invigorated. It’s unbelievably refreshing to spend time with two little people that are so completely sincere – with kids, there are no hidden motives (aside from maybe staying up for just one more book!) there is no backstabbing, there’s just… fun. You can pick them up and swing ’em around and they’re on top of the world. They squeal when you get to the door and can’t wait to show you their new toy, the books they picked up from the library last Monday.
I think that, above all, children are a novelty to me purely because they don’t really have an ulterior motive. They want their apples, another story, and a cuddle. They’re not going to twist you around, use you, make you feel uncomfortable on purpose… unlike everyone else, children are genuine.
It’s time to take a leaf out of their books, ladies and gents.
