So. I had a baby about a year ago. It took pretty much a full year to feel like I had the bandwidth for anything besides my kid and my job, but things did eventually settle out to a new normal. When that happened, I pulled out my book boxes and found myself at an exciting new stage of life where I RELATE TO THE PARENTS OF STONEYBROOK AND NOT THE BABY-SITTERS.

 I swear, there’s a book where one of the sitters is reflecting on how old a parent (I think Mrs. Newton?) is, and they tell us that she’s 34. L O L. I was skimming through Mary Anne vs. Logan, in which the subplot is about Jenny Prezzioso’s sister Andrea being born, and I could barely focus on the relationship drama because I was so concerned about how tired Mrs. Prezzioso was about to be.

 It’s wild, you guys.

Anyway, I’m bringing back the book snark -- though snark might not be the right word anymore because I so sincerely love these books, yes even the Mallory ones. I’m calling it Babysitters’ Cover Critiques (the Super Special that never was, I guess).

 Check it out, tell your friends, print out some flyers and put them around the neighborhood, meet me in Claudia’s bedroom at 5:30 and don’t forget your dues money.

* Who even calls instagram the gram? I think I’m attempting an ironic how do you do fellow kids thing but I’ve now aged so far out of the zeitgeist I don’t even know how to joke about my irrelevance correctly. Only 80s kids know . . . how it feels to scroll through Oh No They Didn’t and not really know who the current pop culture news is about.