Yesterday, Angie, our backup babysitter, was on duty with the little guys after school, while Mick took Kyle first to the doctor (yes, he's coughing, but his lungs are clear) and then to Tae Kwon Do. Our regular sitter, Juana, was in Rhode Island, overseeing the delivery of her new furniture with her fiancee.
"Did you tell Angie that Jesse has flag football this afternoon?" I asked my hub mid-morning. "And does she know exactly where it is in Central Park?"
"Don't worry. Jessie knows how to get there," Mick replied.
A little warning bell rang in my head, but I foolishly ignored it and dedicated myself to editing the article on my computer screen.
Later that afternoon, Angie called Juana in a bit of a panic. "Why didn't you tell me they had soccer? I thought it was football! Now we're going the wrong way and we're late and I'm lost!"
"Soccer? They don't have soccer. Put Jesse on the phone," Juana said.
"Jesse. You know you have football. Why did you tell Angie you have soccer?" Juana asked.
The little imp giggled. "Oh, yeah," he said. "I do have football!"
That night, he literally crowed in triumph.
Jesse punked the babysitter.