Tricia

I LOVE Mason's baby sitter. I found her on Craigs List. Creepy, I know, but when you're moving to a city where you literally know one person, you really don't have much of a choice. So before I moved, I put an ad online. Within twenty-four hours, I recieved probably fifty emails from women who wanted to watch Mason. I eliminated more than half of them based on spelling and grammar errors alone. I emailed twenty or so back, eliminated some more, and set up meetings with eight of them.

When I got here, Mason and I met Tricia first because she was the one I was most drawn to, based on her email. She's thirty years old, a mom of a three-year-old and a nine-month-old, and one of the friendliest, nicest peple I've ever met. I was wasting my time meeting the other moms/daycare providers, because I knew no one else could compare to Tricia. I felt so comfortable during our first meeting that I could have left my baby with her right then and there. So, even though she's about ten minutes in the oposite direction of the restaurant I work in, I drop Mason off with her and her boys four times a week and gladly (or, almost gladly) fork over five dollars an hour. I LOVE Tricia.

Every day, when I pick Mason up, Tricia has a note for me detailing what went on while I was gone.


They don't watch TV, she doesn't give Mason sugary crap or junk food, and I'm confident she treats him like one of her own boys. I'm also convinced she has an incredible amount of patience, because Mason's always coming home with crafts like this:


I never wanted Mason to have to go to a daycare, but being at Tricia's isn't like being at a daycare at all. He loves her like she was family. Sometimes, Mason jumps out of my arms into her's when we get to her house. Actually, my only complaint about Tricia is that I think my kid likes her more than he likes me.