I said I'd do what?

My great-niece Anita turns 17 this week, and her mom, my niece Janet, had a birthday last Saturday. I must love those two: I offered to take Janet’s youngest daughter out of their hair overnight as a gift.

That’s AnnMarie and me. Of course, it’s all about Hanni.

AnnMarie Florence Czerwinski heads to Chicago Tuesday to spend the night with her Great Aunt Betha. AnnMarie is the only offspring in our entire family to be blessed with my mom’s beautiful name. She’s six years old now, but I still refer to her as “Baby Flo.” Our slumber party Tuesday will give Baby Flo a chance to get acquainted with my exuberant new dog Whitney – I’m eager to find out which energetic creature will outlast the other.

And how does a doddering old blind great aunt occupy a six-year-old? I do have a few ideas up my sleeve:

• Clean the silver jewelry: we’ll use old toothbrushes to brush my silver with a baking soda paste, then dunk them in vinegar and be awestruck by the bubbles.
• Play fetch with Whitney.
• Rock ‘n’ roll. Warn the neighbors! Baby Flo plays piano, and I have an accordion. When we get tired of those, there’s always the collection of percussion instruments.
• Play fetch with Whitney.
• Watch a video with video description. My nephew Robbie was just a kid when I did this with him, and after just one minute he was begging me to turn the narrator’s voice off. “It’s driving me crazy!” Let’s hope it goes longer with Baby Flo.
• Play fetch with Whitney.
• Scavenger hunt. Baby Flo peruses the apartment to find things to place in my hands. If I guess what the object is, I score. If she fools me, she wins.
• Play fetch with Whitney.
• Watch the lobby via closed-circuit TV. It’s just like Harriet the Spy.
• Play fetch with Whitney.

Somehow in-between all that fun we’ll have to take Whitney out to empty from time to time, too, and here’s where Whitney’s bell comes in handy. When I was away training with Whitney last December, the Seeing Eye gave us a bell to hang on our dog’s collar during feeding times. When the trainer came around with a bowl of food, Whitney had to stay in her assigned place by my bedpost as I answered the door. The bell on Whitney’s collar gave her away if she moved off her place, and she’d have to go back if she wanted me to place the bowl of food in front of her. Whitney can’t have her food until she stays in her place.

Whitney doesn’t wear that bell much anymore, but during our slumber party Baby Flo will attach it to her collar anytime we go outside. We live in a busy Chicago neighborhood, and Baby Flo knows she has to hold my hand the entire time we are outside. But there’s that half-minute when I take Whitney’s harness off and on to “empty,” and I’m going to challenge Baby Flo to keep that bell absolutely quiet during that time.

Before we go to bed I’m hoping to play my favorite game with Baby Flo: Spa. Baby Flo’s wise mother taught her this one. Baby Flo sets up a towel at the foot of the bed, gets out the lotion and rubs your feet. She usually charges a quarter for the service, but she offered her Great Aunt Betha a deal. I get the spa treatment for free as long as I promise to take my fake eye out when we’re done.