I Can’t.
I should probably explain why this had become such a big deal.
My mom, Diane, has watched my son Caleb since he was a baby.
Not every day.
Usually when my husband Ryan and I got stuck at work, had appointments, or wanted the occasional dinner where nobody asked us to cut chicken into smaller pieces.
Mom always volunteered. Actually, « volunteered » is too mild.
She practically demanded access.
If I mentioned hiring a sitter, she’d say:
« What am I, a stranger? »
Or:
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