Page 33 of A Not So Quiet Christmas
“So you’ve nothing festive to report, as such? You all just happened to be at the same place at the same time.”
“Well, yes. But it proves I’m not thecompleteun-socialite you seem to have me down as.”
“I suppose,” Jules said, looking completely underwhelmed. “So how do you plan to entertain this little boy?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, he’s seven years old. Children that age need to be kept busy. It’s not like you can stick him in front of a computer game, is it?”
“Not at all.”
“You’ll have to have a range of activities.” I could see Jules’s mind whirring as her organisation skills kicked in. “Young children don’t exactly have a long attention span,” she said, as if preparing to execute some military exercise.
I thought back to Seb’s excitement at the Christmas market and realised Jules was right. The little boy had certainly been high energy. He might be cute, but he was also the kind of child to get his head stuck in railings or jump from the top of the stairs to the bottom to fly like Peter Pan. The last thing I wanted was to have to explain away an impromptu visit from the fire brigade or a ride in an ambulance. Suddenly aware of what I’d let myself in for, I began to feel a tad warm. I knew nothing about looking after children. It was one thing sitting next to Seb kerbside for ten minutes in silence. Keeping him occupied for a whole afternoon was a different story. “I haven’t thought that far ahead,” I said.
“Not to worry,” Jules replied, efficient as ever. “I can help. It’s not like I don’t have any time on my hands. I’ll do some research, find some suitable activities, and email them to you.”
Grateful for the help, I wished I’d thought my babysitting duties through.
“Don’t worry,” Jules said. “It’s one child. What could possibly go wrong?”
