I'm eight months pregnant today.
I look like this:
Would you ask this ^^^^ to babysit your kid?
If you were an eccentric, pushy European you might. But you'd try to disguise it as a "play date." The conversation would go something like this:
Pushy European (henceforth referred to as P-Eu): The boys should really have a playdate soon.
Me: Uh-huh. Can't do it today.
P-Eu: No. Oh, sure. But maybe tomorrow?
Me: Mmm....no. Can't do tomorrow either. Probably not until late in this week, maybe even next week sometime.
P-Eu: Oh, yes. Late this week would be good. I can't host on Thursday, but maybe P-Eu Jr. could come to your house on Thursday.
Me: Uh, yeah, I guess maybe like an hour on Thursday would be ok.
P-Eu: Ok. Great. I have a thing that I have to go to on Thursday, so maybe I could drop him off while I go to that thing.
Me: Uhh...k. What time are you going to come get him?
P-Eu: Well, my thing is at 2:30.
Me: Uhhh...I have to pick my other son up from school at 3:00 (you know, the son who is in the same class as your older daughter, who you also need to pick up from school at 3:00).
P-Eu: Oh, yes, I suppose I need to pick my daughter up at 3:00 also. I guess I will need to find someone who can pick her up from school. Ok, so I will drop P-Eu Jr. at your house around 1:00 and then he can stay there while I go to my thing, and you can just take him with you when you go to pick up your older son at 3:00, and then I will probably pick him up around, maybe, mmmm...3:30 ish. Yes, that sounds perfect. Great, so they will have a play date on Thursday.
As P-Eu walks away, I'm thinking to myself:
A: What the fuck just happened?
B: That's not a play date. THAT IS NOT A PLAY DATE.
D: What the fuck just happened?
I really am Jabba the Hut. Huge and spineless.