Redneck Neighbor is loaning us his very mature, responsible, and fun eleven year-old today.  She’s coming over to play with our kids while Becky and I grab some lunch and run an errand or two (and possibly make-out).

Problem solved.

I still remember my favorite baby sitter.  Liz was a twirler.  She lit stuff on fire and spun it around in the backyard while Joan Jett howled from a radio on an orange extension cord.  Also, she played Hi-Ho Cherrio with me.  And she was miniature, or I was ginormous; she was almost eye to eye with me when I was five.  For all this, I loved Liz.  Like my kids love Redneck Neighbor’s daughter. 

Which reminds me, I forgot “No lighting stuff on fire” on that list of rules we wrote out for her.

Afterwhile, y’all.