July 10, 2008

Buckaroo's Babysitter, aka The Lobster Date

We hired our first babysitter, Miss A, tonight to watch the buckaroo while we went out for lobster. Sweet Potato and Obo helped out, too. They said he enjoyed himself until the last half hour when he wanted to nurse and completely fell apart. Poor Miss A said Buckaroo threw about five signs at her at once (he signs for milk, food, more, books, and a diaper change), and she couldn't remember which was what. Plus, he would only let Obo hold him.

The date felt a little rushed and very expensive, but it was good to get away for a few hours. I finally got my lobster!

Last year when we were visiting Mass we asked R's parents if there was somewhere we could go to have lobster. They said they never eat lobster at a restaurant because they always buy it fresh and make it at home. Since we've been here I've asked several people, and they've all said the same thing. I know if I waited until somebody bought fresh lobster and cooked it at home (I'm not so culinarily advanced) I may never eat lobster again.

One day we were driving some windy road somewhere, and I saw a restaurant with a big lobster on it and practically shrieked. Miraculously, R remembered how to get us back there.

My friend Jennifer K. Sweeney has a poem in her book Salt Memory about how lobsters are affectionate with each other and hold claws in the ocean (Well it's about more than that, but you'd just have to hear it). While I was dipping it in butter, I tried not to think of my lobster holding claws with its love. Maybe I was a vegetarian in a past life.

After R dropped Miss A off at home, Obo gave us the full scoop on the babysitting experience. He deemed it an overall success.

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