Watching three boys overnight seemed… doable. I’d swoop in, we’d play video games, swim in their pool and later I’d take them out for dinner. Next thing you know it’d be morning, my sister would have returned, and this brief adventure in babysitting would be over.
Turns out dinner was my downfall. Apparently, kid-friendly means crap food served in chaos. Then the middle kid disappeared under the table, multiple butter cups in hand.
I heard giggling first. I felt cold butter on my exposed feet next.
I leapt from the table. I cursed the heavens.
Have these kids no shame?
The Weekday One Hundred 