Memorial Day Weekend Drudge
My good friends Cynthia and Ruben are adopting a baby boy in July. What's interesting is they are Mexican American and their baby boy is going to turn out be a blonde, pure Anglo- if his brother is any indicator.
The best part is, Cynthia is 42 and Ruben is 72, but the birth parents selected them among a field of others because they are just plain cool. She's a doctor of psychology and he's a Presbyterian minister with a ponytail and a '57 Chevy.
So, last Wednesday when I was at their house to watch the Spurs dismantle the Dallas Mavericks, they asked what I was doing this weekend. Thinking they were going to be having a giant poolside Memorial Day party, I said, "Nothing, what's up?"
Turns out the baby's nursery needs painting.
I was caught in a sting operation.
My Saturday is officially shot.
Then later Wednesday night, Cynthia asked what I intended my function to be once the baby got here. I replied the only way I could.
"Are you willing to baby-sit?"
"Oh, God no."
"I am 50, I don't do shitty diapers."
"Projectile vomiting. Who do I look like, Mary Delli Santi?"
I simmered her down by telling her I'd ask la, a veteran diaper changer, if she'd help me baby-sit little whatshisname.
I asked la if she would.
She said, "Hell no, I've raised my babies and I'm done!"
It may take a village to raise a child, but Cynthia can consider me the village idiot.
I don't know nuthin' about changin' no baby and that ain't gonna change, neither.