It is beyond terrific to tell you that the woman who looks after the boys each day, Bridget, is a great find. She is young, energetic, conscientious, and wonderful, and the Berts love her. She's especially great when there's no school, and she has a free day to take the boys someplace they'll completely love and jabber about for hours after I get home.
The other day gave her such an opportunity, so she took the Berts to the Central Park boathouse, rowed them around for a bit, and helped them throw bread parts at ducks. She also took a short film with her digital camera, so that Daddy could see the bread-throwers in action. All this compared to the vast majority of nanny/sitters, who let kids loose in a playground and spend hours on the phone to offshore relatives, instructing them to remain calm and wait for the signal.
When I got home that day and prepared to be regaled with tales of wondrously wayward watercraft, Bridget said she was rowing while facing away from the bow, as is the custom, when she made contact with another boat. We don't know the degree of the contact, and we may never know. Because when she turned around to see whom she'd crashed into she saw Bono, who was out rowing with two young boys. From that moment on, all details of the impact fled from her brain. All she remembers is a smile and a wink from behind those dorky, yellowpink wraparounds as he veered off.
This is just my luck. I was with them every day for ten weeks. We did all sorts of cool stuff, and the best story I have is when TwoBert got in a water fight with Molly Shannon's daughter. Bridget's on the job for eight weeks and she rams Bono?!?
Just you wait. I'll have the kids all summer again, and nothing will happen, and in the fall Bridget will take over and take out Paul Newman's hip with the umbrella stroller.
