Chelsea, yes, delightful. Thank you for agreeing to watch the children. You come highly recommended.
As I’m sure you’re aware, the children are very special. I’ve prepared a bit of a checklist, but given your reputation, I’m sure it’s nothing you haven’t seen prior, in your travels around the cul-de-sac.
DON’T SIT, NO ONE ASKED YOU TO SIT.
Chelsea, this house has rules.
The children are not to consume any bread, anything baked, anything containing grains of any kind. Toaster pastries and their ilk are especially dangerous.
The children do not eat fruits or vegetables. It’s important that they do not consume any kind of plant, nothing that has been grown of the earth.
The children only eat meat, and it must not be prepared beyond one hundred-twenty degrees.
The children like to watch TV, but you mustn’t permit them to sit facing the TV. The children must never look directly into the television, or into any illuminated electronic devices. They can only sit either parallel to them or with their backs turned.
The children like to be read to, in soft tones with few consonants, but you must never permit them to trace the words on a page with their fingertips.
Do not allow the children to hear the voice of an adult male.
Do not allow the children to get their hands or feet wet. If there is a spill, immediately seclude the children to their separate, darkened bedrooms until the spill has been completely absorbed. COMPLETELY ABSORBED.
Keep the children free of sharp noises. If there are sirens or car horns outside, the children must be rushed to their separate, darkened rooms until the sounds have faded completely.
If there are animal sounds outside, a “woof” or a “meow,” a “hoot” or a “click-click,” the children must be kept in their separate, darkened rooms, until the sounds have completely subsided.
If you catch the children whispering among themselves, create a diversion. I recommend calmly saying, “meat.”
The children may try and coax you into the shadows. Resist.
Chelsea, this next part is important. If there is a prolonged glowing over my backyard, I need you to zip the children into their separate sleeping bags and drag them to the yard beneath the glowing. Run into the house and don’t look back.
Not a light. A glowing. A GLOWING. IF YOU SEE A GLOWING. If you see a prolonged glowing over the backyard, promise me you will bag the children and drag them outside.
Obviously, in the event of a peaceful evening, you’ll want to closely monitor the children’s sleep cycles. I recommend a rotation of fifteen-fifteen-fifteen. Minutes, seconds, breaths; I’m sure you’re familiar.
Chelsea, do you yearn? Do you find yourself longing? This isn’t a formal part of the list.
And of course the children will need help with their projects. They’re making t-shirts for band camp. They’re set on some sort of trombone pun, but I trust you’ll help them land somewhere less crass.