Do you have to tell other parents who your babysitter is?
I know we’re supposed to love our neighbors.
And our enemies.
But is there anywhere in Scripture that addresses sharing the name of your babysitter with other parents?
Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad we’re in community together. I’m glad we’re doing life together. We’ll be in seasons together. Fantastic.
But, if I tell you about the small cartel of awesome babysitters we’ve cultivated in Nashville, you know what’s going to happen next? You’re going to ask them to babysit your kids. And then some night, in the not-distant future, when I decide to take my wife for a kid free dinner* the babysitter will be booked already.
Then I’ll have to tell my wife we’re not going out and will try to make a joke like “Canceling dates is the 6th love language, ha, ha,” but she won’t laugh ’cause she’s heard me do that joke too many times.
I’ll tell her we can stay home and have “breakfast supper,” but she won’t fall for that either. Only are kids get excited by breakfast supper, which is code for “Mommy and Daddy haven’t gone to the grocery store in a while and are really tired, so here’s some scrambled eggs and grits.”
We’ll end up in a fight and have to go to counseling, at which point someone with a wise beard will tell me I need to do a better job of “reflective listening.” When you say you don’t feel loved when I don’t plan our date far enough in advance to get a babysitter I hear …
As a compromise, I’ll have to start coloring my graying hair chestnut brown so that I look younger and more able to book dinner dates. My head will look like Tom Selleck mustaches and people will start calling me the “brown badger.”
All because you demanded to take a shortcut in the babysitter circuit and refused to do your own research into who is an awesome babysitter and who is going to feed your kids pixie sticks and watch Real Housewives with them.
If you don’t have kids, don’t judge me. You don’t know the immense challenge of finding reliable great babysitters, especially when your parents don’t live near you. If you do have kids, well then judge away. But now you’re definitely in the wrong. The Bible is clear about planks and splinters in eyes. You’ve got a babysitter plank sir. Right in your eyeball.
Me? Unless there’s some verse about Martha or Mary (I always forget which was the fun one), babysitting somebody’s kids while everyone else went to the Sermon on the Mount (fish and loaves counts as a date), then I’m in the clear.
Can we get a ruling on this one?
*Which just means not at a Mexican restaurant, those places are great for kids. You can light the table on fire, and they just get out the little push vacuum and laugh with you. Love Mexican restaurants.
Do you find it easy to find babysitters?