Ronan’s home today. No, he’s not sick. A few sniffles only, but mostly he just doesn’t feel like going to school. And I, much to my own surprise, am letting him stay home. I mean why not? He brought home an all-A report card, he isn’t missing anything important today (he says), and sometimes you just need to pull a Ferris Bueller. I wish we had a Ferrari we could drive to Chicago, but no such luck. I actually have a lunch appointment, so he will have to hang out on the couch and watch endless reruns of “I Carly” and “The Suite Life of Zack and Cody”. (I love Carly, but Zack and Cody are the devil’s spawn).
No, I’m not leaving him alone. He’s 11, and perfectly capable of being on his own for a few hours, especially during the day, with the doors and windows locked and the alarm on, but we do have help. Yes, I know. I haven’t mentioned this before because I don’t want to come across all Lovey Howell, but we have a part-time housekeeper. She’s been with us for ages, starting out as a nanny when the kids were small. Because I work in the mornings, I needed someone to get the guys off to school and work, and as time went by, I realized that I needed her more than they do. She comes in early, buys the basic groceries, cleans the house and makes the kids’ lunches and is gone, usually, by noon. She is also the tiniest, quietest person in the world, so it’s basically like having a house elf. She spoils the boys rotten, making their beds, bringing them freshly squeezed juice and hot chocolate while they watch Sports Centre in the morning, and doing their laundry, essentially ruining them for their future wives, since they have no idea that LIFE IS NOT REALLY LIKE THIS. I have tried to persuade her to let them wallow in their own filth, at least to inspire them to pick up after themselves, but she can’t do it, and frankly, neither can I. Their only hope is to be able to afford that kind of help one day themselves. That, or become gigolos.
Anyway, I never mentioned Bonita before because it’s kind of embarrassing to admit to having help in this day and age. I know The Brady Bunch had Alice, and Family Affair had Mr. French, and Green Acres had Eb the hired hand. Oh, and the Philly Cream Cheese lady has her manservant. But these characters are apparently fictitious, and the rest of the world seems to be managing on its own, and I, well, I have to go out and air my bourgeois guilt.