On our trip to Texas a couple weekends ago, my husband’s brother and sister-in-law entrusted the care of their child to us for the evening. But first they set up some safety valves: they only gave us one of their two kids and technically they entrusted him to the grandparents. We just happened to be staying at the grandparents’ house–the junior camp counselors to their seasoned head counselors, if you will. However, unlike typical junior camp counselors we did not take every opportunity to meet up at the lake, make out, and smoke ciggies.
No, my husband and I view any prolonged contact with children now as boot camp experience. As such, we approached our duties solemnly. He quickly realized that we were going to have to take some additional safety measures. So he made like Tony Stark and whipped the boy up some new high-tech, bubble wrap dubs. (And before anyone has a holy conniption in the comments, no, we did not let him run around unsupervised with the bubble wrap hat on.)
That the lad escaped the evening unscathed is clearly a testamant to our superior, although nascent, parenting skills. We realized we’re going to be fine. Provided you can register for bubble wrap by the ton at Babies ‘R Us.