It's that time of year again: Parent-Teacher Conferences! Yay! In all seriousness, I have fun at PTCs. Mostly, I say "You have a great kid who is going to turn out okay" (who coined that phrase? I can't remember) and the parents love me. Besides, it's always true. Well, almost always true. Here's the problem. I work in Salt Lake and live in Ogden, a 45-minute drive. I have PTCs until 8. Who is watching my child? Her father! Bwah! Will he sing her a song before bed? Will it be the right song? Will he wash her little face and read her Goodnight Moon?
I hate that I feel this way. I don't think it's babysitting when I take care of Sabrina. Why should it be babysitting when her daddy takes care of her? He's her parent too, right? It's just so hard to think of someone else putting her to bed, and feeding her, and playing with her at my house. I've gotten used to babysitters, but Sabrina at home, without me? So sad. Maybe I'll get lucky and Zane won't, and she won't go to bed until I get home.
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