On Friday afternoon Tristin called. She and Ben wanted to head out to a movie and would I baby-sit.

Everyone, meet Mason. Mason, everyone.



Mason is a gentle, laid-back, red-headed, amazing child. I love him. I call him lizard because he has a funny little habit that makes him look like one. It's a flicking tongue thing.

The first little bit of of our evening looked much like this...







I love him. I was so excited to be with him. He clearly woke up from this angelic moment and thought, "Bring it on."

The next two hours were spent crying nearly hysterically. Many problems probably contributed. Tristin isn't fluffy. I am. He had gas. He wanted to be held. I needed to use the restroom. He wanted to sleep but didn't want to. I wanted to drop him on his head but didn't want to.

Eventually, after trying everything I knew, I called everyone I knew. They were all busy. But then we got Amber. Just as I was going to give up, put him in his crib and cry--he paused. I called Boo. He seemed fascinated by her voice, the phone--something. I didn't care. There was quiet. Except for the really amazing fart from Mason.

Then, after some nice gossip and perspective, we headed upstairs for bed. Another 20 mins of crying made the little tyke yeild to my will and sleep.

And I thought to myself, "Oh! This is why I stopped."

But I have to admit. I still love him.