Auntie Sonia, Sorry to Bother You, But Could You Watch My Son for a While? — At the Door Stood a You…

Auntie Sarah, sorry to trouble you, but could you watch my child for a short while? A young woman stood on my doorstep, looking rather apologetic.

Whats that? I replied, pretending not to understand her request.

My neighbours said you sometimes mind other peoples children for a bit when the parents need to run errands She attempted a hopeful smile.

Listen, love, theres no such thing as other peoples children. Theyre all ours, I answered with great ceremony.

Oh, right! the young mum grinned, clearly relieved. So you wouldnt mind, then?

How long would you need me to stay with him?

Just a couple of hours.

Are you surea couple of hours? I asked.

Well Maybe three, just in case, she said, her voice less certain now.

No, dear, that wont do, I said firmly. Ill only take your child for an exact number of hours, written down and signed.

Signed? Whatever for?

Because, for every minute youre late, youll owe me one pound extra.

How much? Youre joking!

No, you heard meone pound per minute. So, an extra hour would cost you sixty quid.

Blimey! Sowhat do you charge for three hours, then?

Is your child a boy or a girl?

Does it matter?

Of course it does. Three hours with a girl is twenty pounds, with a boy its forty.

But why such a difference?

You mean you dont see the difference between boys and girls?

Well, no, other than a few obvious bitstheyre pretty much the same.

Aha! Its those bits that make all the difference. If youve got a boy

Yes, I have a boy.

Well, that means I have to make myself presentable before he comes in.

Sorry, what do you mean?

I mean freshly ironed dressing gown, manicure, eyeliner, eye shadow, lipstickthe works. Makeup isnt cheap these days, you know.

But hang on! she protested. My Bens only five. Why would he care what you look like?

What do you mean why? Honestly! A boy should be developing good taste from the very beginning.

What about a girl?

A girl will pick it up anyhow, but a boy needs to learn how to recognise a properly turned-out lady from a proper fright. Otherwise, do you want him, when hes grown, to bring home a scruffy onesomeone like I am now? I hope you dont slouch about in torn tights and a grubby dressing gown in front of your little lad?

Me? She looked thoughtful, and then a bit embarrassed. Is is that bad?

My dear! I exclaimed. You remember thisboys choose wives who are like their mums. If you want a daughter-in-law whos a slob

I certainly dont! So can I bring him over now?

When?

Right now. I really do need to dash for a couple of hours.

No being late?

All right, fine. I promise, Ill be back for him in three hours for sure.

Go on, then, bring him, but in fifteen minutes. By the way, what does your little one like to do?

Sorry?

What interests him? Does he talk about science, technology, or is he always on about art?

But hes only five!

Thats why Im asking.

Thats why?

Of course. Interest takes root at this age. My Harry, at five, could strip down a bicycle and even a car engine after that.

At five?!

Of course! His dad was the finest mechanic in Portsmouthyou didnt know?

No!

You should have. My second son played the violin at five. We kept telling him he should stick to something else because his fathers name is Charlie, not Joseph, so music probably isnt in the genesbut he stuck with it, and now he teaches music theory at the conservatoire. Just goes to show, you can do anything if you want. And my third

The third, Ive heard, is quite the athlete, the young mum interjected.

Thats right! Which is why weve still got a climbing frame in the house. If your Ben wants to have a swing on it, Ill show him some brilliant moves.

You? she stared at me in disbelief.

Why not? Ive also got a piano, a violin, books on science and music, and even a few about angling. Just tell me what your boy likes, and Ill keep him busy for these three hours. Hell forget the world exists.

He doesnt really have any hobbies, she admitted with a sigh.

What about dreams?

I dont think so

Goodness, really? I remarked, rather surprised. A real boy of five ought to dream of magic wands, flying like a bird, going to space, climbing in the washing machine and turning it on, at least dismantling the telly, or petting a real tiger at the zoo. Doesnt he want any of that?

All he wants is a mobile like grown-ups have, she said, clearly put out.

I see, I nodded. In that case, bring him to meno, in fifteen minutes. Ill only charge you twenty; the girls rate.

But why? she protested. Hes a boy!

So what? Having the right bits in their trousers doesnt tell you much. But trust me, Ill make a proper boy out of him.

Will you? she asked, looking somewhat alarmed. How?

Dont worry, thats my business. Just know this: next time he begs to comebecause he willIll charge you the boys rate. Deal?

Deal, she agreed, resigned. Im out of options.

Good. Off you go to fetch the lad. Ive got to put my face on.

The next morning, Ben had barely opened his eyes before he asked, Mum, can I go to Aunt Sarahs today?

Why? she demanded, a bit jealously.

Its just so much fun there! he cried.