The Babysitters' Club

This past weekend I spent with a lot of girls. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, they were almost all under 10 years old. My friend Sophie had somehow decided that she would host a sleepover night for her nieces, but soon the idea spiraled into an entire weekend of activity. Being a kid-friendly kind of guy (in that they seem to love crawling all over me) I was conscripted to help out with the festivities on Saturday. So Sophie started out on Friday with two of the girls, shopping for food and decorations and all the necessities and basically running errands all over town. I was planning to go out and party Friday night with some friends but I got a call from Sophie in the early evening saying, "I’m picking you up, I need your help... NOW"

So I was in. I helped with the rest of the errands and then began the process of helping design decorations for the Hawaiian Theme Slumber Party 2005. Helping kids with that sort of thing is generally pretty amusing. In a way, it’s frustrating because you just want to reach over and say, "Look, if you don’t want that to look like a piece of crap, then you should do it this way." But of course, you can’t do that, and somehow, it always comes out looking all right anyway. By this time we had three kids and more were on their way. That’s the thing about kids, leave them alone in a room and they multiply like bacteria.

Next thing I know I’m at Pizza Hut with an 11 year old, a 9 year old, a 6 year old, a 5 year old, a 4 year old and one very frenzied Sophie. Luckily, our friends Sania and Yasser came by to help out, and things went relatively smoothly. Thinking back to when I managed a steak house in Calgary and the amount of shenanigans parents would let their kids get up to in a restaurant, I was pretty proud of our success. Nevertheless, we had to wait for some extra take-away and the young ones were getting restless so I figured it would be best to take off with them while the going was good.

So I loaded up the car with 4,5,and 6, went through the seatbelt hassle (which is much tougher over here where no one wears them) and started off back towards the house. Unfortunately, there was some kind of fender bender on Zamzama so I was caught in traffic with three hyped up girls. "Look! A bus!" shouted Meera, the 5 year old. "Correct." I said. "David looks like a girl because he has a pony-tail!" shouted Dina, the precocious 4 year old. "No he doesn’t!" said Zara, the almost 6 year old who is WAY to smart for her age, "he has a beard and girls don’t have beards." "Some girls do," I said, just to confuse things a little. You gotta keep kids on their toes I find. But I aim to please, so I took the elastic out of my hair and let it fall loose amid hoots of laughter. "How’s that?" I asked. "You’re a Girl!" shouted Dina. "You smell funny," I retorted with all the maturity I could muster. They all started to prod and play with my hair. I looked over at the car next to ours and saw that it held four young women about my age who were looking at me like I was the cutest puppy in the window. Hmmm, I thought, I’ve got to take these kids to the park.

Just when I thought we would never get out of this mini-traffic jam, and I thought I would snap the next time Meera pointed out the same bus every time it pulled up beside us, I was saved by the Bombay Rockers. Yes, the British one-hit-hindi wonders came on the radio and suddenly I had three very happy kiddos dancing in their seats and singing, "Teri Toh… Teri Tah…" And I’ll tell ya, it was damn cute.

So finally we made it home and the younger ones were sent off home leaving us with only Noor at 11, Aman at 9 and Zara… still almost 6. They were insistent on finishing all the decorations before bed and so it seemed like an age before they were finally all tucked into their pajamas with their teeth brushed. "Zara, did you brush your teeth?" asked Soph. "Nope. But I’ll brush them twice tomorrow morning." This kid has an answer for everything, and always very logical… twisted, bizarre and faulty logic by times, but logic nonetheless.

I realized Sophie and I were far more exhausted than the kids when I watched Aman jumping around the room, giggling and talking non-stop and saying: I’ve-had-too-much-sugar-you-can-tell-when-I’ve-had-too-much-sugar-because-I-get-a-sugar-high-and-I-run-around-and-talk-non-stop!"
I cradled my head in my hands. Sophie reverted to the oldest trick in the book. "Ok guys, David and I are going outside for ten minutes, and when we get back you better be in your beds and talking quietly." They all nodded solemnly and then Zara said, "In other words, Sophie wants a cigarette!" Busted. I’m telling you… way too smart.

Much ado was made over setting the alarm for 10:59 the next morning so that we were sure to be up and ready to go to the beach after lunch. I looked over at Sophie, having temporarily forgotten that this was just the precursor to a day at the beach and the actual sleep-over the next day. "Sophie…" I began. "I know," she replied with a voice triple glazed in fatigue, frustration and futility. Finally, we all drifted off toward sleep only to be rudely awakened by the alarm clock which, after all the fuss, had been accidentally set for 1:59 am instead of 10:59. "Oh for the love of God," I sighed. I couldn’t even imagine what tomorrow would hold.