No. This is not an article about a boyfriend. The word "Manny" actually references my cousin Raymon who agreed to stay with us this week as our Male Nanny while my parents are in Hawaii. Though he came to us "pathetically skinny", he has since eaten an entire pan full of Carolyn's sugar cookies. No one else would.
The week began rather normally. I came home from school and heard Grace talking on the phone: "No they're BOTH gone...oh, they won't get back until next Sunday." When I asked Grace who was on the phone she said, "Oh just this really nice guy who wanted to sell us insurance. I think his name was John." Manny and I decided to create a sign for the front door that said "Welcome John!" with a treasure map depicting the location of all the really expensive items in the house. Kids these days. The internet deludes their sense of who qualifies as strangers.
Aside from the anticipation of John's visit, I have also enjoyed our quality family activities which include:
Watching the Young Victoria, a historical fiction about a Queen of England. Hearing Grace tell all of her friends the next day to watch Victoria's Secret. I think I'll just let that one filter back to my mom through word of mouth.
Putting together a life size picture of Jimmer Fredette from the Daily Herald as Manny pumped us up for the BYU game and told us all the secrets of Fredette's personal life which he learned from his brother who heard it from his mother who is in the ward of Fredette's girlfriend's mother.
Coming home to find Manny and Melissa playing "Who's got the smell?"
Shutting the garage door behind Manny everytime he tried to open it and watching his look of bewilderment change to fear as he thought he'd broken it.
Hearing about Lambert the Sheepish Lion who, according to Manny, was "raped by sheep."
Opening a beautifully decorated box that I found on the kitchen table, expecting to find something nice. It was actually the sarcophagus for Grace's mummified chicken.
Manny has also promised us that we can have a Lord of the Rings Tournament. He will not explain what this is, but has indicated that he gets the bow and arrows.
In all honesty, I don't want my parents to come home yet. I don't think I'll ever get sick of Costco's frozen meatloaf in a nice bath of ketchup. Besides, over the course of this week we've become close to our Manny. He has finally found his niche in nannying. He microwaves a mean Teriyaki Bowl, talks Camille through her extensive boy problems, and has even begun to pick up our messes AS he is walking--something I've only ever seen my mom do. I don't know what he'll do without us. I considered offering him a full time position, but when I accidentally said something about "my Manny" today at school, I decided he'd probably better not become a permanent fixture. But to all of you doubters out there, if you ever get the chance to have a Manny, take it. Not only will he feel obligated to wash all the dishes, but you can both blossom as you learn how to work together to keep the rat children happy.
