Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Hard to Find Good Help

About a month ago, I was at the mailboxes with Mason when my downstairs neighbor pulled in. Now, this guy is pretty old (seventy?) but he seems nice and we've talked on several occasions. He parked his car, got out, and proceeded to eyeball Mase from three feet away. When I looked over at him, our conversation went like this:

Me: Hi, how are you?
Old guy: Oh, I'm fine, dear. How old is your little girl? [Mason was wearing blue, not to mention the fact that we'd talked about Mason and his age at least three times before. Anyway, he looks nothing like a girl. But whatever.]

Me: He's a boy. He's ten months old.
OG: Oh, how sweet. I bet she keeps you real busy.
Me: He sure does.
OG: Do you live here?
Me: Yep, right upstairs.. Well, see you later.
OG: Okay, bye now. [He turns to go back into his apartment, then peeks his head back out the door.]

OG: You know, I'd love to watch her for you sometime.
Me: Uhh.. thanks, I'll keep that in mind.

Never mind the fact that he called Mason a girl three times in thirty seconds, he didn't even remember we existed. I saw him again today, when Mase and I were taking out the trash, and he politely asked me if I had tried to break into his apartment.

Needless to say, I don't think he'll be babysitting any time soon.

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