Do you have a babysitting horror story?

At approximately the time this column is uploaded to the syndicate website, I will be attending the funeral of my Aunt Jean.

I’m sure the eulogist will wax eloquent about heaven, but I want to nominate Aunt Jean to the Babysitter Hall of Fame.

When I was six and my brother Dwight was four, our parents dumped … er, entrust-ed… us to Aunt Jean while they attended a social event at the local municipal recreation center.