Babysitting going well

The babysitting is going well. The boys are happy, the girls are having fun. It's been a long time since we've had diapers and sippy cups and little voices saying "Doggy? Nice doggy?" in the house.

Candyland has been played. Battleship also. The only problem we've run into is that Mr. Littlesox deeply desires to play the "p'nano," which is something we can't let him do. It's always been a house rule that no one is allowed to bang on the keys because a piano is a valuable musical instrument, and plus it wears on my last available nerve.

The menu tonight was macaroni and cheese and peanut butter sandwiches. Water all around, because Mr. Bigstuff played two baseball games out in the sun this afternoon and was thirsty, Mr. Littlesox because he has a yeasty kind of diaper rash and I remember from experience with the girls that fruit juice and even milk do not mix with those rashes; they only make them worse.

The boys love the dogs and the dogs love the boys, agreeably padding around after them and angling to get their backs petted, their eyes closely examined and their teeth touched. If any of us tried that with Wimzie, she'd have our arms off at the shoulder. But a two-year-old? No, he can get right up in her business and breathe in her face, but does she protest? No, she does not. She stands there wagging her stub of a tail and allowing her eyes to twinkle brightly. It defies understanding.

The girls have had a really nice time looking after the boys. They're very sweet kids and it's really been lovely having them in the house this evening.