Babysitting


(N)

I didn’t have to think too hard, lucky for me. “It’s just that Mrs. Branch is a heavy titter,” I said.

“WHAT?” Mom shrieked.

The most important thing to do with a Freudian slip is not to acknowledge the slip. Never apologize, never retract, never say ‘what I meant was,’ because it never, ever goes away.

They’ll remind you of that slip when you’re old and grey.

Instead, play ignorant. Make them wonder if they really heard what they thought they heard.

“What do you mean, what?” I asked. I looked down to Electra as if seeking help understanding my mom. Her face was down in the cup of milk, dipping her own mug. She wouldn’t look up.

“What did you say about Mrs. Branch!” Mom asked.

“I said she tips a lot of money, especially if she’s out late,” I said. I looked confused. “She’s a heavy tipper.”

“Oh…” She thrust the empty laundry basket at me. “Next load’s yours.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I made sure Electra was clear and took a sip of milk. Mom wandered off, shaking her head.

“Of course,” Electra said quietly, “it’s Also true that-“

“Every word that starts with a K, I’ll recite one of the rules of Vaudeville.”

She shut up.

Mrs. Branch didn’t have much time to chat when we arrived. She was finishing up getting ready for whatever she was attending.

She did take time to ask about my parents and school, and compliment Electra’s costume. “That’s like the one Becky Hafter wore, right?”

Oh, yeah, I remember, now, it was Becky Hafter, 1980 Olympics. The girl who got on the team because two teammates sylphed before the competition.

“Exactly!” Electra cheered. She didn’t even sneer at me until Mrs. Branch left.

So, first things first, we had to play a game of hide and seek. I had Betsy and Terri kneel in the dining room with their backs to the living room. They put hands over their eyes and I held a hand over their hands.

Together we counted slowly from one to fifty.

Electra took off like a red, white and elastic missile, straight for the drapes. She went up them like… Like a really fast-climbing sylph, let’s say. She was seven feet off the floor and out of sight by the time we reached thirty-five.

The girls shouted and went searching. It never fails, kids never look more than eight inches off the ground for a hiding sylph. Even after they’ve seen how high she can jump, they pick up pillows, peek under sofas, and shake discarded shoes.

I played life guard and instigator. The exercise was an attempt to tire people out so they’ll be ready to sit still for some gymnastics. So while I prevented the kids from looking behind the TV, (“She won’t hide behind a power strip!”) I also suggested spots that were clear across the room from where they stood.

They’d squeal and run, poke and peer, squeal and run…

After they’ve run around for a while, Electra flips over to the bookcase and descends in stages. They never look up.

When they’re just starting to not have fun anymore, she pops into view beside the game controllers and shouts ‘Here I Am!’ They argue ‘We looked there!’ She says ‘you looked RIGHT AT ME’ or something else to tease them.

They crouch down and giggle at each other for a bit while I build the gym.

Then the older sister is allowed to very carefully lift the sylph to the table and Electra starts her routine.

I made Mac ‘N Cheese while she entertained them.

After dinner, we went outside and ran around the back yard for a bit while Electra recovered in her carrier.

Among other things, this gives her a rest, and a chance to eat some of the chocolate she’s got stashed there without having to share.

When the kids were tired and my pet was ready again, she did another routine. Then we watched a little TV and finally I tucked the girls into bed.

Then there was nothing to do but wonder if Mrs. Branch was going to come home drunk.

Electra was trying out different things on the bars. Every time she looked over, she caught me staring at the couch where I’d been kneeling that night.

“You know, she’s probably NOT going to seduce you again,” she said. “She may have gotten that fantasy out of her system.”

“Well, I’m busy with MY fantasy, so it doesn’t really matter, does it?” She laughed and did a handstand.

Then she slowly stood and walked over to tap me on the wrist. “Conrad, you won’t be… Difficult, will you? If she’s not interested?”

I pat her on the head with my other hand. “I don’t want to pressure her, or make her uncomfortable. And I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. And, really, I’ve already been far luckier than I deserve, so I’ve nothing to bitch about if she’s not interested.” Then I made shooing motions. “Now go, routine.”

“Routine’s not a verb!”

“Well, exercise, then. I’m still designing the point system for the sex game she’ll teach me.”

She shook her head, but smiled as she back-flipped to the end of the bars.



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Index

19. Internal Matters

21. Princess(N)