Attaining Zen in the Art of Baby Sitting

Today I had a unique challenge--ship some of my belongs in my storage unit to Colorado and babysit my girlfriend's three year old daughter, who I will refer to in this story as "bubbles."

Bubbles and I headed to the storage place. The entire way Bubbles informed me of pertinent information, such as, "I am a girl," "You have a head," "Your nickname is Tony," "I'm going down the toilet." I made a serious effort to remain legitimately engaged in the conversation...I don't think she cared.

Upon arriving at my storage unit Bubbles asked me what we were going to do there. I told her that I was going to get some stuff to ship to Colorado, and get some other stuff to give to needy people (via Goodwill). Bubbles only heard, "We are going to give stuff to poor people." As we went through my belongings looking for my ties and a few other important items, Bubbles found that everything would be good to donate to Goodwill. First she picked up my wrenches and said, "Anthony, poor people don't have these," and then put the wrenches with the clothes to donate. Then she spun around in my office chair and said, "Anthony, poor people don't have chairs," and then she rolled the chair over to the clothes to donate. It went on like this for sometime. By the time we were done, Bubbles had approved only one thing to be shipped to Colorado--her.

Luckily Bubbles got tired of helping the poor people about half of the way through the packing, and she decided to sit in the back of the car, hum Disney tunes to me and then make me guess what movie it came from. It turns out bubbles is an amazing hummer, because I guessed all the movies correctly. Bubbles approved of my disney knowledge and dubbed me, "Silly Anthony."

At the FedEx storage Bubbles was a big hit, although she thoroughly accused everyone of being "a stranger." In fact, she required evidence to prove that we could trust the strangers behind the counter to get my packages to Colorado. "Who are they," and "how are they getting your boxes to Colorado" are two of the interrogation questions she offered. The stranger hunt culminated with Bubbles pointing directly at a man standing 3 feet from us and at the top of her lungs proclaiming, "Stranger!" Rather then try to defuse the situation I simply replied, "yeah, I don't know him either, he is a stranger."

After dancing on the counter, sitting on my head, going down the toilet a few more times and informing every employee that she was "a girl," Bubbles and I headed to the post office. Bubbles spent most of her time at the post office sitting on my shoulders or draped over my head. This was the easiest way to watch her and write my address on boxes.

Finally back in the car, Bubbles went down the toilet two more times and then fell asleep. Mission accomplished.