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My Frenemy, Cont'd.

 My frenemy is back.


Yesterday, at the "Back Road Holiday Party," I mentioned that my family is losing its nanny.

"Of course," said my frenemy, "I myself use day care. I have the kids enrolled at the Goddard School. You actually have to get the child in at the three-month mark, or else there is a long, long wait list. Basically, you get your son in at three months, or it could be freshman year at Harvard before the day-care service calls you back!"

I regretted having opened my mouth.

"Well," said my frenemy, "the evenings are hard, so we've contacted a neighbor with a college-age daughter. And she just arrives each night to do one bath while I tackle our older kid. This twentysomething is fabulous, and she just has a very, very short walk to work each night, so everyone wins."

I breathed deeply. I felt my ribcage separating from my sternum.

My frenemy emitted a false laugh. "We made it to six months, right?" he said, as if we'd just been through a war together. He said, "Where is our prize????"

I smiled broadly and changed the subject to "West Side Story." I will have vengeance, I thought. And my baby cooed in my arms.
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