Babysitting is fun. Especially when the baby likes me. If I ever run into a baby that doesn't, I just leave. Luckily for her, the baby I watched this week was fond of me.
Rosalyne is a one year old, fair skinned, four toothed sweet heart. She enjoys long walks around the couch, penguins, and playing with baked potatoes that her mom plans to eat. She doesn't however, enjoy being put down to bed.
Similar to a lot of my baby blessed friends, there is little fuss over night-time rituals with Rosalyne's parents. Her diaper is checked and she is put into her crib completely sans fuss. Apparently we are more fun than mommy and daddy because, when the lady and I put her down for the night, she cried for over a half an hour.
Even the first time I babysat a child, I knew not respond to their crocodile tears with a visit. That said, there is almost nothing worse than listening to a baby cry. Thirty minutes is a long time. Maybe a varmint had crawled into her bed.
No varmint could be found and a check of the diaper did not curl my nose hairs. After the poop check, I placed her back in her crib and decided to nonchalantly sit next to the crib, with intentions of sneaking away a moment later. Her little eyes poured through the bars of the crib, watching me as I pretended not to notice her.
My singing voice is .... well, it's OK. You won't find me auditioning for American Idol or indulging in karaoke, but I enjoy struggling with a tune in the car. When I decided to sing Rosalyne to sleep, the words to all the worlds nursery rhymes simultaneously escaped me. So I sang her Bowie.
While "Jamming good with weird and gilly" might seemingly take cues from any number of Dr. Seuss classics, the rest of the tune dredged up images of ego, deceit, and revenge perpetrated by and towards the greatest rocker in the world: Ziggy. In other words, a lovely, well rounded bed-time fairytale.
Having run through the song a few times, I decided to put a cork in it. The path to the door was clear and the book I remembered to bring wasn't going to read itself. Standing, I saw those eyes poking at me again. Her anger was apparent before I left the room, and continued as I watched her on the baby monitor downstairs.
Lesson learned; Not even Bowie is perfect.
2 comments:
David Bowie - isn't he that guy from Labyrinth?
She was just mad that you didn't sing it as Rozzie Stardust.
She had fun manipulating you into hanging out with her past her bedtime. She is cunning that way.
Oh my god. If I ever have children you have to sing them Bowie!
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