Date Night

It was time for a date with my husband. This is a long forgotten ritual in marriages where overwrought parents go out together without children. We look forward to it with anticipation. We can talk about life, children, work, friends, each other, food, and dreams of Hawaii. Sometimes we even sit in complete silence just for the sake of silence.

Then came the glitch. The teenager, who is becoming increasingly more involved in other activities than doing what we want her to do, had plans. She's our responsible babysitter.

Plan B: Get the 12 year old to babysit the little boy. It's a good plan but not solid. She gets tired easily and should really go to bed. Then she gets bossy. When she gets bossy there are tears. To clarify, she wants to control too much which is frustrating for everybody else. I was worried.

Plan C: Tell the 10 year old boy he's the back-up babysitter if his sister steps down and informs him she needs to go to bed. She understands how she gets when she's tired and agreed to relegating control in favor of bed if she got too tired.

He's a responsible boy but he's still 10. On the other hand, he has taught the 4 year old some really useful skills and helped him develop talents otherwise forgotten to the adult world; arm farts, giant belching, belly drumming, and swinging from track lighting.  

Reluctantly, we left the house. 

As we drove toward the junior high where we were dropping off our teenager, the first call came in.  It was the 10 year old boy. "What do you do for brain concussions and head trauma?" he asked with a giggle.

It was going to be a long night.