Adventures in Babysitting: 343542

People with "real" jobs always have fun work stories to tell. Mine are rarely fun. They are sometimes cute, sometimes disgusting, but mostly awkward. I thought I'd share an awkward one now. Flash back to a month ago. I'm babysitting two houses down for the Kids Who Are Too Old To Need A Sitter who are the children of Mom Whose Picture Is Next to the Dictionary Entry For Narcissism. Seriously, all she does is talk about the kids and ask leading questions that I'm supposed to answer to prove how brilliant/special her children are. "Was ___ reading three grade levels above where she's supposed to be again? Oh, that girl of mine!" Well, she now knows I work with high schoolers doing sex ed. Where do you think this is going?

She started talking about how her son is mature emotionally (of course) but more obviously, he's quite physically mature. I respond with stoicism- an encouraging squint of the eye, perhaps. She continues, "I mean, he looks so old, older than 15 even!" Now pause. What do I say to this? I immediately think that agreeing with her, that he looks older, implies that I look at him like he's older, and that's...ick. But if I disagree, then I'm denying her the smug satisfaction of her child once again being ahead of the curve. So I decided to be non-committal and say "mmm" as in, "yep, sure, whatever." But it came out more like "mmMMmm," as in "this dinner is sensual" or "yeaaah, feel that knot in my back? That's the spot..." so basically now I'm the creepy sitter who isn't just looking at him and thinking he looks way older than his age (TWELVE), I'm the creepy sitter looking at him, thinking he looks way older than his age, and...taking pleasure in it. I mean she hired me again for a million more dates the next day, so I guess now she's the woman who takes pride in a creepy sitter implying that she finds her very-underage son "mmMMmm"-worthy.

In not-as-creepy news, I spend a lot of time with my family in the next neighborhood over. I believe I've mentioned Henry once, twice, 8,000 times because he's adorable. But he often brings up his old babysitter...Joani (you have to say it the way Seinfeld says "Newman," for dramatic effect). In ways of longing: Joani did this, he misses Joani, Joani let him finger paint, etc etc. So naturally, since I have what one might call a "competitive spark" (read: ridiculous "am I good enough?" issues), I have begun to try to constantly one-up Joani. And I'm doing well. We recently finger painted and there was snow on the ground, so on our way inside we grabbed patches of snow with our painty hands to "turn snow different colors" and the idea was a huge hit and duh now I'm clearly his favorite babysitter. But she's got me beat: in his room there's a picture of him sitting on her lap, giggling in favorite babysitter glee. To confirm my suspicions, I asked, in a manner I deemed non-chalantly enough (he's a perceptive 2-year-old, you know), "So bud, who's that lady in the picture?" "Oh, that's Joani" he said, adding after a moment, "And Henry." Hmm. "Oh...Joooaani," I said, drawing out her name for dramatic flair. "She's...pretty." Indeed she is. But dammit, I want a cuddle picture on his dresser! I'M the one changing poop diapers and making up songs! Stealing his snacks and letting him have one (4) more show. NOT Joani. JOANI had the audacity to return to college in September. And what do I get for my utter devotion? NOT a picture on the dresser. So I amend the first sentence of this paragraph completely, as this is beyond awkward and I need new life aspirations.