Wait For It… a blog by Andy Ross


Posted on July 12, 2011

I might not be the best babysitter, but that you would accuse me of losing your child simply because I can’t find your child at this very second---well, that hurts me.

First off, I just woke up, so I’m a little groggy. You can’t expect me to pull together every detail about an entire night of babysitting the moment you guys wake me up on your pool table.

Second, I feel like maybe I was set up to fail on this one. Because, your child is very small. It could be in this room with us right now, and we wouldn’t know. It could be under the couch, or it could be inside an over-sized vase, or it---

Pardon? Yes, I’ll stop calling your child “it.” She, alright? If labels are so important to you, she’s a she. She could fit into nearly any empty space in the house. The dishwasher for instance. Or the inside a piece of luggage.

Thirdly, why are you so worried about where your daughter is? Are you guys helicopter parents or something? Y’know, that kind of constant, hovering attention can really screw a kid up.

Fourthly, there are a ton of reasonable explanations as how I might not know where your daughter is at this precise moment:

Maybe we were playing hide-n-seek, and she cheated by crushing an Ambien into my scotch.

Maybe there was a tornado, and I told her to climb under the pool table for safety, and then I got up on top of the table to bat away any falling debris, and I got hit on the head in a heroic attempt to save your child’s life. And, now I have that type of amnesia that heroes have in movies.

Maybe an evil stepmother you didn’t invite to the christening came and put a sleeping spell on me and turned your daughter invisible. Did you ever think of that?

Any of those things could have happened. There’s literally no way we can know… AH HA! There she is! See? She’s poking out from inside the awesome fort we made! Now I remember that we made an awesome fort and pretended it was a castle, and she asked if she could sleep in there. I promised to keep watch for monsters from an elevated position, which is the pool table. Boom, that’s what happened.

See, I told you I’d remember once you gave me a minute to wake and for the scotch to wear off. So, who looks foolish now?

What do you mean, “That’s the neighbor’s kid.” That’s not your daughter? Well, that’s the kid I’ve been playing with all night. If that’s the neighbor’s kid, then where’s your daughter?


Delicious Popsicles

Posted on August 3, 2010

Listen, if it were up to me, everybody would have popsicles.

But, it’s not up to me; it’s up to your mother. I was given strict instructions as your babysitter—no popsicles for the kids. But, that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy my popsicle.

Don’t look at me that way. Rules are rules. Without rules, it’s chaos. You’re too young to understand, being ages 3 and 5, but one day you will. Whoops, my popsicle is dripping! Let me just get that … mmm, delicious.

I wish I could give you popsicles. I do. Especially because there are tons in the freezer. Seriously, your mom must have gone to Costco. But, she gave explicit instructions. “Do not give Madden or Quinn any popsicles. It will ruin their dinner.” And, I refuse to ruin dinner by giving you yummy grape popsicles like the one I am eating right now.

Pouting isn’t going to get you anywhere, Quinn. In fact, it makes me less likely to sneak you a popsicle against your mother’s wishes. Which I could totally do. But, I won’t. Even though I could. Because I’m the adult.

As an adult, I am not bound by the “no popsicle” rule. See? That’s why I can break open this second popsicle for myself. But, you guys are children—children who aren’t allowed to have popsicles. It’s a fine but important distinction, and I am truly sorry that it exists.

One day, you’ll thank me. Some day in the distant future. Maybe a swelteringly hot day, like today. You’ll say, “Andy, thank you for refusing to give us popsicles—no matter how hard we begged. It taught us an important lesson.” I’m not sure what that lesson is, but then again, I’m not the one in charge. Your mom is.

Ouch, this second popsicle is giving me a cold headache. Do you kids ever get those? They’re the worst. I’m gonna have to throw away the rest of this sweet, tasty popsicle. You probably shouldn’t watch while I … open up the trashcan … and done. No more popsicle. It’s a shame. So delicious.

Anyway, who up for starting dinner? Let’s see what’s in the cabinet. Ooh, I hope you guys like lentil and barley soup!