(Inspired by Lola)
I'll be the first to admit it. I'm not so good with the 1-10 year old set. Odd, perhaps, since this seems to be most people's favorite age group.
I like babies, of course, I mean, who doesn't love a fat little baby blowing bubbles in their own spit at you? Babies are cool. Babies pretty much stay where you set them down. You can accidentally swear in front of a baby and they aren't going to tell. Relatively speaking, babies are easy to watch.
But once they start walking and talking, I prefer to hand them back to their mothers, until they get to Jr. High.
And while everyone else seems to think toddlers are the most fun, I'm not so sold on 'em. And that's most of the babysitting jobs that were offered to me as a teenager. And do I ever have some horror stories.
There the four year old we accidently got drunk, my friend's little sister. Lissy and I watched Kaitlin a lot. And there was always a yellow pitcher of fruit juice in the fridge, left there by her parents just for Kaitlin. On this particular afternoon, Kaitlin had been really whiny, so when she said her tummy felt funny, we were a bit dismissive and just offered her another glass of juice. When we figured out that her parents had used that pitcher for leftover margaritas we thought for sure we were going to jail. Fortunately Kaitlin was fine.
And there was the time I was watching three boys under the age of three. The baby was pretty easy, he mostly slept, but the 2 year old and the 3 year old wouldn't stop fighting. While cleaning up the 2 year old's pee from the kitchen floor, the 3 year old climbed the blinds. Fortunately the couch caught most of his fall, the blinds and the 3 year old weren't in the best of shape when their parents arrived home. And it was almost scarier when they just nodded at my story and said, "It happens."
And then there was our neighbor who within months adopted 2 two year old boys and a 6 month old. The overwhelmed wife begged me to babysit one night. Again, the baby mostly slept or drank his bottle or grabbed at his chubby little feet. The boys played with knives and launched themselves off the kitchen counters. They were one step ahead of me all night. I swore, never again.
A few months later, a friend of a friend asked if I would babysit her "very smart" five year old son, Nicholas. The money she was offering, for just one kid, was really good, and I thought one kid couldn't be so bad. I should have known that was my first red flag, that she was willing to pay so much and couldn't find anyone else to watch him. The second red flag was when the neighbor met me on the lawn and said, "You're Nicholas' new babysitter? I'm sorry." She then offered me some lemonade and said, "It'll be ok, dearie. I'm sure it will."
Nicholas was smart, in the sense that I'm sure Hannibal Lecter was smart as a child. He cut a swath of destruction that would put invading forces to shame, leaving me in his wake wondering whether to attempt to clean up and apologize to the neighbors, or chase him.
My last day as his babysitter, he'd taken off up the street. I'm fast, but DAMN that kid was cagey and quick. I'd finally corralled him, when he looked back towards his house and saw his father arriving home. He took off like a bat outta hell, running down the middle of the street. I made a mad dash after him, and was just about to catch up to him, despite his evasive maneuvers. Unfortunately he zigged just as I zagged. And the full weight of my body, not to mention the momentum I'd built up, ground him into the asphalt.
I picked him up gently, scratched and screaming, whispered, "I'm so sorry, kid," handed him to his father, looking him in the eye and said, "I QUIT."
He probably didn't know I was referring to the profession of babysitting as a whole.
I'll be the first to admit it. I'm not so good with the 1-10 year old set. Odd, perhaps, since this seems to be most people's favorite age group.
I like babies, of course, I mean, who doesn't love a fat little baby blowing bubbles in their own spit at you? Babies are cool. Babies pretty much stay where you set them down. You can accidentally swear in front of a baby and they aren't going to tell. Relatively speaking, babies are easy to watch.
But once they start walking and talking, I prefer to hand them back to their mothers, until they get to Jr. High.
And while everyone else seems to think toddlers are the most fun, I'm not so sold on 'em. And that's most of the babysitting jobs that were offered to me as a teenager. And do I ever have some horror stories.
There the four year old we accidently got drunk, my friend's little sister. Lissy and I watched Kaitlin a lot. And there was always a yellow pitcher of fruit juice in the fridge, left there by her parents just for Kaitlin. On this particular afternoon, Kaitlin had been really whiny, so when she said her tummy felt funny, we were a bit dismissive and just offered her another glass of juice. When we figured out that her parents had used that pitcher for leftover margaritas we thought for sure we were going to jail. Fortunately Kaitlin was fine.
And there was the time I was watching three boys under the age of three. The baby was pretty easy, he mostly slept, but the 2 year old and the 3 year old wouldn't stop fighting. While cleaning up the 2 year old's pee from the kitchen floor, the 3 year old climbed the blinds. Fortunately the couch caught most of his fall, the blinds and the 3 year old weren't in the best of shape when their parents arrived home. And it was almost scarier when they just nodded at my story and said, "It happens."
And then there was our neighbor who within months adopted 2 two year old boys and a 6 month old. The overwhelmed wife begged me to babysit one night. Again, the baby mostly slept or drank his bottle or grabbed at his chubby little feet. The boys played with knives and launched themselves off the kitchen counters. They were one step ahead of me all night. I swore, never again.
A few months later, a friend of a friend asked if I would babysit her "very smart" five year old son, Nicholas. The money she was offering, for just one kid, was really good, and I thought one kid couldn't be so bad. I should have known that was my first red flag, that she was willing to pay so much and couldn't find anyone else to watch him. The second red flag was when the neighbor met me on the lawn and said, "You're Nicholas' new babysitter? I'm sorry." She then offered me some lemonade and said, "It'll be ok, dearie. I'm sure it will."
Nicholas was smart, in the sense that I'm sure Hannibal Lecter was smart as a child. He cut a swath of destruction that would put invading forces to shame, leaving me in his wake wondering whether to attempt to clean up and apologize to the neighbors, or chase him.
My last day as his babysitter, he'd taken off up the street. I'm fast, but DAMN that kid was cagey and quick. I'd finally corralled him, when he looked back towards his house and saw his father arriving home. He took off like a bat outta hell, running down the middle of the street. I made a mad dash after him, and was just about to catch up to him, despite his evasive maneuvers. Unfortunately he zigged just as I zagged. And the full weight of my body, not to mention the momentum I'd built up, ground him into the asphalt.
I picked him up gently, scratched and screaming, whispered, "I'm so sorry, kid," handed him to his father, looking him in the eye and said, "I QUIT."
He probably didn't know I was referring to the profession of babysitting as a whole.
Labels: autobio, confessions, Lola
2 Comments:
Yikes. Really, really yikes. I found that bribery often worked. I babysat a 2-year-old, a 6-year-old, and an 8-year-old quite often. They were kids of my parent's friends...and they were exhausting. I told them that if they behaved, we'd go for a ride to the dairy sweet (where I worked) and they'd get slushees. ~grin~ It worked most days.
I will totally remember these tips someday when I have kids. Or I'll hire you two to watch them.
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