Gentlemen, ladies, small ferret in the corner wearing a top hat for some reason: thank you for seeing me on such short notice. I think you’ll find the business opportunity I’m about to present to you today demonstrates impressive ROI and KPI, not to mention PEI, LOL and YMCA.
To begin: what does everyone want? Yes, a peaceful resolution to the conflict in Ukraine. A drive-thru laundromat? Less universal but also a good answer. The last three years of our lives back? Can’t argue with that.
What I’m thinking of, though, is serenity. We are all looking for peace. Something to take our minds off the worries of life and the inescapable realization that everyone in politics was once either the wedgie-er or the wedgie-ee. And so I give you: baby sitting.
No, not “babysitting.” Not looking after someone else’s kid in exchange for a few lousy bucks and some syphoned booze from the liquor cabinet. I mean literally sitting with babies.
Let me back up: this business plan came to me not long after the birth of my granddaughter. I can tell just by saying the word “granddaughter” that you want to see pictures of my granddaughter. Don’t worry, they’re right here on my phone. No, it won’t take any time at all. There she is there. And there. Oh, here’s a good one. Now, here’s a video of her rolling onto her tummy at eight months. Well, almost rolling. Watch, she gets so close… almost… almost… Ooo! But nope…
[Seven minutes later]
And that’s how long my daughter’s labour was. Anyway, you get the idea. Did I mention our granddaughter lives with us full-time? I did? Twice? Yes, her grandmother and I are very hands on, or, more relevant to the topic at hand, laps on. We spend a lot of time with our granddaughter just sitting on our laps, because, really, what else are you going to do with a baby? In doing so, I’ve noted a marked increase in well-being, calm and drool on my tie.
So the plan is, you sign up for a baby sitting service – let’s call it “The Baby Sitters Club” – and you’re assigned a baby, say a nine-month-old, maybe a baby who’s just starting to verbalize but hasn’t really discovered free will, because that shit ruins everything! And then you sit.
- General rocking
- General gurgling
- Booping (“Booping” is a technical term whereby one takes one’s index finger and boops the baby on the nose. Tummies may also be booped.)
- Admiring the teeny-tininess of fingers
- Admiring the strength of teeny-tiny fingers when they latch onto your beard and/or earring
- Playing “What Can We Put in Our Mouths”
- More snuggles
- Tickle Time!
- Pretending to eat toes, fingers, ears; general nibbling, actually
- Pooping (usually performed by the baby but optional for the baby sitter as well)
At this point, with the pooping, the baby sitter would likely pass the baby off to her parent. Because that’s the thing: you can’t do this with your own baby. No, that would make you responsible. How can you relax when you’re responsible? How can you be serene sitting with a baby knowing they might very well grow up to be one of those adults who confuses “freedom” with “convenience”? No, you may love this baby more than anything but it’s not your baby.
What’s that? Yes, it’s true, the prototype for my venture has been my own granddaughter, and, yes, she does carry one-quarter of my genes. There’s an affinity, you could say, a strong affinity. I love her to bits. So, yes, I admit our baby sitting trials to date have been exclusively with what is clearly the brightest, most amazing, certainly the most gorgeous baby in existence. Here, let me show you some pictures…
Fine! Settle down! (I’ll text them to you later.) I’ll grant you, there is the strong likelihood that some babies will be less stellar than my granddaughter and therefore less soothing. I bet some babies are real jerks. You, sir, I can imagine your baby being a real piece of work. And you, madam, I bet that ferret in the top hat is better looking than your baby. Oh, that is your baby! My mistake.
I can see by your expressions that you won’t be investing in my baby sitting scheme today. In fact, you all look incredibly tense. Would you like to book some time with my granddaughter? I’ll bet you’ll… lap it up.
I’ll show myself out.