More adventures in babysitting

A couple of weeks ago, I was staring at my calendar trying to remember what “G. kids” on the 24th meant. After wracking my brains a bit, I remembered: That’s the night I would have Nate and Max over. Mom would be up north at a bat mitzvah with the other two kids, and Dad scored Elvis Costello tickets. I remember laughing at Sarah when she told me I’d only have two of the four, so it would be easier. No, I said, because I have the two who can’t keep still. When Max goes from the living room to the guest room, he runs the last few feet on the carpet and slides across the faux wood floor. Every single time. I can’t count how many times Nate bumped into things or fell or slipped tonight. At one point, he discovered the hard way that the guest room bathroom floor is very slippery. “Are you all right?” I asked. “Aunt Meryl,” he said cheerfully, “I’m Nate!” Oh, yeah.

Things went relatively fine until dinner. Then Max lost a tooth. It was already loose, he was eating corn on the cob, and he suddenly got a strange expression on his face, spat out the tooth, and then realized that when you lose a tooth, there is bleeding involved. I’d actually forgotten that part. Max has certain boundaries in his world. He likes a fair amount of order. Bleeding from where he just lost a baby tooth is just the sort of thing to totally mess with his world. His expression grew more shocked and annoyed as the gum started bleeding copiously. I had to think quickly, so I marched him over to the sink, grabbed a cup of water and and explained that he should just swish and spit until it stopped bleeding. This was normal, both Nate and I told him. The bleeding will stop soon. I breathed a huge sigh of relief as I realized I was telling the truth. (Really, it’s been a loooong time since I lost a tooth.) We put Max’s tooth in an empty cup so we wouldn’t lose it, and went back to dinner. Max decided he needed to call one of his parents. (This, by the way, is code for “I need to talk to Mom.”) So I called Sarah, said, “Max has something to tell you,” and gave him the phone. This is Max, telling his mother about his tooth.

We didn’t discuss the Tooth Fairy. I figured that can wait until tomorrow night. The tooth is now in a plastic bag in his snack box for Hebrew school tomorrow.

Aunt Meryl had also promised the children an evening at the rock climbing gym. Nate loves climbing. He climbed the 50-foot wall when he was six. I hadn’t belayed anyone in at least a year. Because I am paranoid, first I had an employee check my knots. It’s like riding a bike, though. They were fine. Then I put Max up first, because he’s smaller and lighter, and I thought it would break me in more easily. First up was a 25-foot climb. Max got about ten feet from the top and missed a hold and slipped. The rope, of course, held him, but he was frightened. He told me he wanted to come down, which is a very natural response from an eight-year-old who thinks he’s just almost fallen. I told him that he was close to the top. That the rope held him, as I promised it would. That it could hold a baby elephant (that’s actually true; it can hold 2,000 pounds). And last, I said, “Do you trust me? I won’t let you fall.” I guess he trusts me. He decided he’d keep going. And made it to the top.

That got his confidence up. Nate climbed that same route so fast I had to make him slow down. Next, Max decided to choose a non-party route. A 5.7, which is not very hard, but pretty hard for a kid. He climbed the route, too, only missing one or two holds. Nate followed and aced the route.

Last, the fifty-foot wall. Up Max went. He took a few breaks, and made it to the top. Once again, Nate chose the more difficult route and aced it. They both did great.

Of course, the night wouldn’t be complete without one major foul-up by Aunt Meryl. Early in the day, I thought we’d have time to try out my funnel cake maker that a friend of mine gave me for Chanukah or my birthday some time ago. We didn’t leave the rock climbing gym until 9:00. And we had to stop to buy toothbrushes, as neither boy remembered them. Or toothpaste. So on the way there, I suggested that instead of funnel cake, which would take a long time to make, we get Krispy Kreme donuts instead, and I would make them funnel cake after Hebrew school tomorrow. Thankfully, they agreed.

Looks like we’re having lunch together after all, even though I told Larry that I didn’t really have the time for it. Oh, well. A promise is a promise.

I have so got to remember to stop making promises like that.