Mrs. Berbrin sighed, putting on her earrings in the mirror. Friday night in mild weather, she and her husband were going to go out to dinner and a show. Of course, they had to break this news to their son.
"That's right, a babysitter. Nine's way too young to be spending a night alone."
The nine-year-old in question, Kevin Berbrin, held both his arms out, as though asking his mom to look at him, "C'mon! I'm in the fourth grade now! You probably let Geoff stay by himself when he was my age!"
"Actually, we kept him with a babysitter until he was twelve," claimed the boy's mother, sitting on the bed and slipping on her high heeled shoes. "When you're that age, maybe we'll talk."
"Twelve?!" Kevin's prepubescent voice reached a heightened pitch from the anger of the injustice of it all, "You're gonna give me a sitter 'til I'm twelve?"
"If you keep acting like this whenever we go out, I might do it even longer," she added, quite annoyed by this point. Once her shoes were on,
When I was a kid living at the townhouse apartments, we had a playground with a small basketball court in the back of the complex. That summer, the beach sand around the small playground was matted down a bit and a big construction dump truck came to the front of the playground with a dumping bed full of fresh sand. Instead of having workers help spread the sand out, they just dumped the whole bed of sand in a big pile in front of the swing-set next to the see-saw. From the front of the sand pile, you could only see ¼ of the top of the swing-set. You cant see anyone swing until you see the bottom of the swing as it sweeps up to the top of the pile. We