Aunt Sissy's house, or the Pit of Despair

I called my sister yesterday, after Lexi got on the bus. Or at least I tried.

"Hello!" Austin answers, sounding more like a harried business executive than a charming 4 year-old. "What do you want?!!"

Before long, Zack takes the phone and they exchange nonsense. And then they hang up.

I called back and asked for his Mommy. Lori said they may have to go over phone etiquette, again.

*****

Austin coming over for a playdate is a fairly new development. I was his babysitter/daycare lady for a couple of years (Big Meany) - and because I doled out discipline alongside the lollies, I wasn't the person that came to mind when he wanted to have fun. I was that time-out dictator that separated him from his beloved Mom and Dad. I was not to be trusted.

After Caden was born in 2005, Austin's disdain for our gig grew from the typical separation anxiety to outright dread. I'd plan park dates, trips to the Kid's Club, and story times at the library, no matter. He'd cry. He'd cry until he was sick. Then I'd call Lori, so we could all revel in the deluge of tears. It didn't take long for all involved to admit that we were miserable. Every one.

Lori has been staying at home (not really) for nearly a year now and loves it. Except for when she doesn't.

I'd like to think we had some good times early on. Better yet, I like reclaiming my status as Aunt Sissy, purveyor of picnic lunches and romps at the park.