The Greatest Babysitter Ever
Though perhaps this will seem a minor celebration to some, especially in the shadow of our upcoming joy, this fall I will finally be realizing my lifelong dream of being a baby sitter.
When I was a little girl, all I wanted to do was to baby sit. I read all those books about that club of baby sitters, watched that movie Adventures in Babysitting, and two times I took 4-H certification classes in babysitting. By the time I was thirteen, as far as Boone County was concerned, I was an able babysitter. And yet, no one ever asked me to watch their children. I think, perhaps, it was because my parents circulated in a crowd of people whose children were actually more apt to baby sit me and, perhaps, because I had no form of transportation.
To my great joy, I was once asked to baby sit for the Jeffers family, (because their regular babysitter Jill was unavailable), and in my memory it was a relatively easy evening. I made macaroni and cheese for dinner, we watched the television, and, drawing on my immense education, I didn’t even take the kids to Chicago to hunt for my runaway friend in a bus station.
When it was time for bed, I took Garrett upstairs, where he told me that he needed a new diaper. “What? A new diaper? Can’t you talk? Why do you wear a diaper?” But I removed the soiled garment, cleaned him up, and then, while he patiently stood atop the vanity, I tried to figure out how to put a new diaper on him.
“Well Garrett, this is proving to be impossible. This material was not covered in all those books, and the only think I remember from my babysitting classes is how to hit you extremely hard on the back in the event that you begin to choke. Which way does this diaper go?”
With Garrett’s instruction, I soon had him ready for bed. I took him back down stairs to say goodnights to his sisters, where Megan looked him over and said “um, Garrett’s diaper is on backwards.”
“Yeah Megan? That’s how Garrett told me to put it. It’s his diaper. Don’t you think he would know?”
“You asked Garrett? He’s a baby. Why would you ask a baby?”
This fall, I will be watching a little girl who will get off the bus at my house each day after kindergarten and wait for her mother to finish work. I don’t think I will call it babysitting, because I met her yesterday and she is far from a baby. In fact, she is very strong; while she was at my house she managed to rip a branch off of the magnolia tree in the yard. (I think that she needs to go to Manchester school and have Mrs. Schwebke say to her “how would you like it if you had a giant hanging from your arms?” This is something that never made complete sense to me. I understood that we weren’t supposed to hang on the tree limbs, but in comparison to trees, we were far from giants. Mrs. Schwebke, wouldn’t it have made more sense to say “how would you like it if you had something small and vicious like a young badger or a raccoon hanging from your arms?”)
I will meet her at the bus each afternoon and then we will have snack. Yesterday I asked her what she likes for snack.
Carrots? Pickles? Apples? Cereal?
“ Yes, cereal.”
Cereal it is! Alright little girl, I will be waiting for you at the end of the driveway after school, and then we’ll walk back to the house and you can have all the shredded wheat you want!
(I don’t think she knows how funny this is to me. But she will when I give her that pillow of shredded wheat!)
When I was a little girl, all I wanted to do was to baby sit. I read all those books about that club of baby sitters, watched that movie Adventures in Babysitting, and two times I took 4-H certification classes in babysitting. By the time I was thirteen, as far as Boone County was concerned, I was an able babysitter. And yet, no one ever asked me to watch their children. I think, perhaps, it was because my parents circulated in a crowd of people whose children were actually more apt to baby sit me and, perhaps, because I had no form of transportation.
To my great joy, I was once asked to baby sit for the Jeffers family, (because their regular babysitter Jill was unavailable), and in my memory it was a relatively easy evening. I made macaroni and cheese for dinner, we watched the television, and, drawing on my immense education, I didn’t even take the kids to Chicago to hunt for my runaway friend in a bus station.
When it was time for bed, I took Garrett upstairs, where he told me that he needed a new diaper. “What? A new diaper? Can’t you talk? Why do you wear a diaper?” But I removed the soiled garment, cleaned him up, and then, while he patiently stood atop the vanity, I tried to figure out how to put a new diaper on him.
“Well Garrett, this is proving to be impossible. This material was not covered in all those books, and the only think I remember from my babysitting classes is how to hit you extremely hard on the back in the event that you begin to choke. Which way does this diaper go?”
With Garrett’s instruction, I soon had him ready for bed. I took him back down stairs to say goodnights to his sisters, where Megan looked him over and said “um, Garrett’s diaper is on backwards.”
“Yeah Megan? That’s how Garrett told me to put it. It’s his diaper. Don’t you think he would know?”
“You asked Garrett? He’s a baby. Why would you ask a baby?”
This fall, I will be watching a little girl who will get off the bus at my house each day after kindergarten and wait for her mother to finish work. I don’t think I will call it babysitting, because I met her yesterday and she is far from a baby. In fact, she is very strong; while she was at my house she managed to rip a branch off of the magnolia tree in the yard. (I think that she needs to go to Manchester school and have Mrs. Schwebke say to her “how would you like it if you had a giant hanging from your arms?” This is something that never made complete sense to me. I understood that we weren’t supposed to hang on the tree limbs, but in comparison to trees, we were far from giants. Mrs. Schwebke, wouldn’t it have made more sense to say “how would you like it if you had something small and vicious like a young badger or a raccoon hanging from your arms?”)
I will meet her at the bus each afternoon and then we will have snack. Yesterday I asked her what she likes for snack.
Carrots? Pickles? Apples? Cereal?
“ Yes, cereal.”
Cereal it is! Alright little girl, I will be waiting for you at the end of the driveway after school, and then we’ll walk back to the house and you can have all the shredded wheat you want!
(I don’t think she knows how funny this is to me. But she will when I give her that pillow of shredded wheat!)
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