Adventures in Backwoods Babysitting

Back during the recent times of unemployment, we rocked the freecycle pretty hard for household items we were in need of. We obtained some good stuff, and some fun stuff. Such as, we got a lawnmower - that WORKS. We got a set of Encyclopedias.

One offering was a Christmas tree.

Might seem strange, but we actually NEED a green Christmas tree as ours is white which rocks in FLA but really probably will seem odd here in GA. So someone had a tree, and we responded that we'd come fetch it.

We drove out a little more rural than ourselves, not a lot more, just a little more, to pick up the tree. The owners of said tree lived in a really cool looking log cabin - obviously made from a kit - but it looked like the kind that would be sort of fun for vacations or weekends. (The Husband went inside to fetch the goods and told me it was a hideous shack and that they were obviously baked to the gills but that is a different story).

Mrs Tree Owner came out to say hi while the husband lugged the tree + assorted other junk she had decided to give us. She made small talk, told me she had twins too (oh my let's be best friends) blah blah blah. OK fine, she was nice enough.

Then she noticed a pamphlet for a nanny service sitting on my lap. Now don't get me wrong, we're not HIRING a nanny. We were just looking at it. This however - was just the opening she was looking for.

"I watch kids during the day." she tells me.

I smile, and nod, unsure of what to say. "Oh, really?" I manage.

"Oh yeah, it's great - see that gully down there? Well, mine are older than yours, they're about 6, so I just let all them kids out and send'em down to the gully to play. They just come when I call."

I wish I had a picture - both of me struggling for words to continue this conversation, and of the GULLY in question. It was a wooded slope leading down to a water runoff - the woods so thick that the children in question MIGHT have been down there but who would know. It would also, in my mind, be the sort of place that hobo child molesters and other ne'er do wells would set up camp using shopping carts as grills.

"Oh, well kids like the outdoors." I mumble.

"Are you lookin' for a sitter?" she inquires.

I smile, say no, we're not in the market at this time.

Or ever.