Hazing

Tonight was the first night for our new babysitter.

In an attempt to simultaneously train for our upcoming triathlons and enjoy some nice Together Time, we hired a college student to come over and watch Brynna a couple nights a week so we can go to the gym.

Eventually, we're planning to have her come a few minutes before B goes to bed, and just hold the fort while B snoozes away. But tonight we asked her to come a bit earlier so she and B could get to know each other.

Brynna certainly does love playing to an audience, and chatted to E at great length. E came upstairs with us for bedtime, and after B carefully selected three books to read and plunked herself down in my lap, we asked her which book E could read.

B looked again at her options—Goodnight Moon, Doggies by Sandra Boynton (A Counting and Barking Book), and Fox in Socks—and pointed straight to Fox in Socks. Is it possible for a not-yet-two-year-old to engage in a hazing ritual?


For those of you not familiar, Fox in Socks is a 50-page tome of Dr. Seuss tongue-twisters. It has taken me months to learn how to read it properly. (I like the tweetle beetles best, for all of you Seuss connoisseurs out there.) Tonight was poor E's first exposure to Fox in Socks, but she dove in gamely, and in fact triumphed. Brynna chuckled along, giggling particularly hard when E got tripped up.

Once we finally got B to bed, Alex and I headed off for the YMCA, only to arrive as they were turning off the lights—they are on their summer schedule now, and my carefully constructed plan of late night swimming and weightlifting is now most decidedly off. Arrgh! So, we walked back home and took Jasper out for a run instead.

B woke up once while we were away and apparently dropped right off again with some back-stroking and a little reassurance. Anyone who can read Fox in Socks is apparently in the Brynna-approved club.

So, I think E is going to work out fine. Though we did provide hazard pay for the Fox In Socks-induced numb tongue.