I am afraid of small children.

I mean, I like them and all, I just don't know what to do with them. Stretch still teases me about the time I was carrying a watermelon for her out the store, and commented, "This is similar to how you carry a baby, right?" (The watermelon was strung across my hip) "Except, you wouldn't want to drop a watermelon! It's so much more fragile!" Stretch has still not recovered and will never ask me to watch her future children.

Stretch, on the other hand, would adopt all of parentless babies in the world, in addition to most of the children in cirulation in China, if she could. So, why is that I got asked to babysit this Saturday night - and not Stretch?!

I really hummed and hawed over it. I was tempted to say I already had plans, but in all honesty that pretty much would have meant going out drinking with my boyfriend. I decided that it would be the right thing to say yes, but felt a heavy sense of impending dread - as though I am headed to my execution. I did have a moment of brilliance, though.

Now, Stretch is coming along.

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