Monday, February 2, 2009
We have a new babysitter. She hangs out in the garden and is made of robust red parachute silk. Yes, it is spring-like enough in San Francisco to put up the hammock. And if you so much as mention that you might just go and sit in it, Max will be tripping over himself right at your heels and clambering into the thing before you. That's generally what I have in mind when I announce I'm going to lie in the hammock, so it's mission accomplished, and I can get back to the kitchen to empty the dishwasher (again!) without Max getting his sticky fingers on the cutlery before me. Usually it's only a five minute babysitting session and since Max insists on climbing in and out 'all by my self' it's not long before he is back in the kitchen - covering Oli in nose-rubbing love. 'Oli's just sleeping' I'll say steering the stroller somewhere a little quieter but I know it sounds like I'm pleading, and Max knows that too and tells me; 'No, he's just waking up.' Of course, by then Max is usually right. In fact Max thinks he knows exactly what Oli's preferences are: 'Oli doesn't like his bib on' I hear as I turn round to find Max yanking it off him, dribbled puree spilling on the floor. Or 'He wants to take his hat off' Max will say, plucking it off like he's pulling up a carrot. Oli obligingly smiles at everything Max does - so perhaps Max does know best - but I haven't yet seen him insist that Oli wants a turn in the hammock...and I'm sure he'd love it!