I'm having a tea latte at Tully's. Now, here's what I like about Tullys- the baristas are very sweet and remember my particular drink, a no-syrup, breve, bag-in fireside chai tea latte in my mug, which slightly larger than a grande. According my my ex-barista friend (as opposed to an ex-friend barista), I should ask for a no-fun-pain-in-the-ass-not-even-coffee latte. I figure that if I'm paying Nick and Adrian's babysitter $13/hour, I should order just what I want.
Most kids Nick's age chafe at the term 'babysitter.' Not Nick or Adrian. Just one mention of the word and they're jumping up and down. 'What am I, chopped liver?' I think. I have always hired boys to babysit my boy. The best one yet is this boy, Brad. He's usually pretty sweaty when I get home. He drives to the house on time, cooks lunch, and is going to do some desperately needed yard work as well. Today, the boys spent an hour and a half hanging a tarp in the living room in preparation for their 'Nerf war to end all Nerf wars.' They really know their taut line hitches now. The last time Brad came over, I couldn't figure out why the printer wouldn't work. It had a Nerf bullet stuck down in it. An easy fix for Mike.
So, the boys have been spared an hour at the grocery store, I'm sitting here enjoying my latte, and I'm pretty sure Nick and Adrian will have gotten some exercise when I get home. Ah, life is good, isn't it?
Thank you for listening, jb
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