Friday, March 5, 2010

Babysitting Esky's Suitor

It's high time I gave you an update on Master N - who imprinted on Esky not too long ago.

How timely - given that I was entrusted with the charge of babysitting him and his little sister last night.

I was impressed as Paula quietly marshalled the two to bed, and furthermore, with how quietly they went. No attempts at stalling, no arguments. Master N was on his best behaviour.

Esky and I set about "Crawling Peekaboo" in the living room. Then we put in an episode of Lie to Me on disc. That was when I heard 6-year-old-sized footsteps on the hallway tiles. I quietly carried Esky with me to investigate.

By the time I reached Master N's room, he had scampered back to his bed, but could not conceal he was awake. And topless.

"Are you okay?" I enquired. He nodded, and ducked under the blankets. "Well, it's late, buddy, time to sleep." Esky and I returned to the living room. It was pretty hot - who could blame the boy for stripping off a little?

It wasn't long before I detected a new sound from the hall - the sound of pages turning (very quickly, I might add). Esky on hip, I made my way to the doorway of Master N's room. There he sat, sitting on one leg, his chin resting on the other, hurriedly turning the pages of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Apparently the lad feared his the earlier display of his physique had not impressed the mother of his intended bride, so he had dressed himself. In his school uniform...complete with polar fleece, socks, and shoes. "Do you usually sleep in your school uniform?" I asked, tipping my head on its side. Master N slid his pointer finger across line after line (feigning reading in fast-forward). Without raising his head, or stilling the finger of fury, he replied, "Mandy picks me up very early. I need to be ready."

Now we're talkin'. Master N had found the Achille's Heel in my armour of opposition to infant-betrothal; obedient, studly matches for my girl were a dime a dozen - Esky deserved more, and raise his game he had - well-read, over-achieving, well-dressed, and punctual obedient studs were rare. Add to that my penchant and support for the undeniable efficiency of sleeping in tomorrow's clothing, and it seemed Master N had his love future all sewn up.

I resisted my interest in praising such efforts to win a maiden's hand, but granted the inamorato 5 more minutes (faux-)reading, at which point I promised I would return for the book and find him in PJs, in bed. He nodded.

And 5 minutes later, I did return, take the book (noting Master N had someone read 120 pages in the time that elapsed), and assure him I would bookmark his page when he clawed after it in attempt to earmark his page (points lost, Master N, points lost). I left Master N, topless again, in bed.

2 minutes later I heard squeaking. Without a word or eye contact, I retrieved a stuffed bear from the boy's mitts and added it to the confiscation pile growing on the counter.

All wooed-out, he then fell asleep.

Verdict: If we work on this young admirer's mistreatment of books, his ability to showcase his talents may prove enough to one day gain my daughter's attention. Although...we also need to discuss his wardrobe choice. Want to impress me? C'mon! I've seen you in much finer threads;

Where was this little ensemble last night?

This is the kind of "bad boy" garb even a mother cannot help but approve of. Savvy?

Or perhaps you could have put on a happy face?

Or really sent the message home that you can keep my little girl safe.

Or, dear Romeo, if you really want to pull the ladies, you just need to resurrect this number:

After all, I've seen the dance that goes with it. What mother wouldn't want a shuffling penguin to court her little girl some day?

I guess there's always next time.
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