Yesterday NewGuy was standing around my desk when he saw this book. "Hey, Babysitters Club. And you're up to #28! Good for you!"
Now, this might beg the question, why do you have a Babysitters Club book on your desk? A: Because it was a gift from Bizzy and her man HappyHobo. Q: Why? A: I don't know. Because I am the eternal babysitter? Also, the series' author, Ann M. Martin, is a Smith College grad. Whenever I'm listing off famous alumnae I always lead with Martin and then go into Friedan, Steinem, et al.
You can't see the cover clearly enough to read, but the name of this adventure is "Abby and the Mystery Baby". It says, "What's a baby doing on Abby's front porch?" Let me say that finding a baby on my stoop is one of my biggest nightmares. I worked as a nanny for five years, taking care of babies and todlers, and by the end, I was dreaming about babies nearly all the time. I would have dreams where someone would just walk up to me and hand me a baby and walk away. Or, there would be a baby on my lap, and I'd be all happy and playing with it, and then I would ask someone, hey, whose baby is this? And the answer would be "Yours!".
It became clear that it was time for me to get out of the nanny game. The dreams went away but I continue to have dreams where I'm pregnant and I don't know who the father is, but I'm just waddling around going, oh yeah, I'm having this baby. The whole thing is very "Papa Don't Preach".
2 comments:
I consistently have dream in which I'm pregnant with a child I mysteriously give birth to in my bedroom and keep in a hall closet.
Additionally, we didn't stop drinking post-brunch until 8. Happy Sunday, indeed.
Honey, we live in New York City. No one is going to spare a hall closet to hide a baby in.
I had a dream that I found a baby ... in your King Cake. But I didn't. That guy did.
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