Bridget the Babysitter

Bridget has become quite the little babysitter. As you know, my baby sister went on a cross country bike ride to raise money for MS research. After she returned, she had a college degree and some wicked tan lines. What she didn’t have was a job. So she’s our permanent back up babysitter. And now that Browyn (my other sister, keep up here people!) has decided to take Brady out of their terrible daycare, Bridget has become Brady’s permanent all the time babysitter until she finds a job she likes better. Frankly, I don’t think a better job exists: she wakes up 5 minutes before “work”, brushes her teeth, stays in her PJs, and deals with the terrible commute from the main house to the guest house. She watches TV and hangs out with an awesome baby all day long. And if she ever needs help or company, she just calls my mom to come over. Must be rough. Before our backup became fully booked, Bridget watched Jack a couple times while Laura was sick. Her text messages were fairly entertaining:

 

Your son has become much harder to change his diaper now that he grabs everything in sight, I put the diaper on backwards.

Your son hates me. He won’t stop crying.

I guess he thinks a minute nap is good enough.

Don’t tell me he’s not gonna poop for me, Molly. Don’t you dare ever say that again. It got on my hand. My effing hand.

Where do I feed him carrots? In his swing?

I can’t get Jack out of the high chair! He is stuck! He is going to be in here until he is 18! I am pressing the button. Nothing is working!

PS I got him out of the high chair

You know how I can eat an entire box of cheerios in one day? Yeah…you need more milk.

Your son is a freaking rollie pollie.

That crib tried to kill him earlier.

Home alone furnace = jack’s crib. both inanimate objects trying to kill small children.

You need more food. My stomach is eating itself.

At this point, I received a series of pictures of Jack with random “filters” on them. One of them had little butterflies all over it and she wrote:

Uh oh. There’s a bug problem in your house.

(one with sparkles all over it) Your son is Edward Cullen.

(one with flames) THE HOUSE IS ON FIRE

(one with raindrops) don’t worry, I put the fire out. everything in your house is wet though.

I asked her if she was bored. She responded.

No way!! too much going on in this house to be bored. Vampires. Fire. How could I be bored?

 

And there was no way I could be bored with all those texts coming in.