$4 babysitter - Not supposed to happen

Sometimes something will get stuck in my brain, and I will identify it as something to write about, and then I'll get to writing about it.

I wish it always worked that way; my intentions are good. And it doesn't matter whether the writing turns out to be alright or if it's solid crap, so long as I accomplished that which I placed on my mental "to do" list (which does differ from my *real* "to do" list), I usually feel relief.

Getting it out provides me a sense of accomplishment. Like making the bed or shaving my legs.

I had a list of things that WERE supposed to happen on Labor Day weekend ... things that I was going to compile into a blog post. And to clarify, by WERE supposed to happen, I mean that in hindsight they happened for a reason and were not intentional actions on my part.

But I kept tossing these things around in my head, and I realized that there was this dual meaning about "were," and I kept twisting those thoughts around like a Rubik's Cube, and I ended up scrambled ... what I meant to write, an unsolved puzzle.

Maybe another time I'll tell you about Katie, whom I met at the family water park. I sort of got distracted, and realized that writing about her would make me even more sad ... if I shared her story, I would have to admit my inability to really help her, and right now, I have to focus on my own child, not those for whom I'm not even responsible.

I did lend her enough quarters to get a drink out of the soda machine. I showed her the water fountain and advised she refill the bottle if she got thirsty. And while sharing our finger sandwiches, I told her she really shouldn't take food from strangers, but that since both R and I were eating the sandwiches, and since we all were sort of friends by now? It was probably OK.

I will never understand parents who drop their seven-year-old child at the city rec center and tell her they'll be back when it closes. Even though the rec worker told me seven is the exact "approved" legal age for children to be unaccompanied at the center (and even though Katie did have a 13-year-old brother on site -- a brother who paid absolutely zero attention to her) ... it's something I will never understand.