In Charge

In Charge

Babysitting, only the kids aren’t babies. Kid-sitting just doesn’t sound right. Childcare… no, not when you’re babysitting. Really, more like Interruption-ing care. They do things, quite often things their parents would never allow. Your job is interrupting things of that nature before they get out of hand. Hopefully also not leaving clues the parents will notice and blame on you. Because of course, “You’re in charge.” And, getting them to bed, the second almost impossible requirement, also required.

A seven and five-year-olds are smart. Unfortunately, smarter about many things than a seventy-five-year-old. Some of the most normal things in their life didn’t even exist when I was their age. Imagine for a moment asking a seven-year-old how to turn on the computer (which apparently isn’t even called the computer anymore…)

Parents gone, children getting frisky. The first thing that went was a flower arrangement on the dining room table. Chasing each other Tommy collided with the table, and then Jane with Tommy, and the vase slid right to the edge. Fortunately, I did catch it, but not the flowers…

Unfortunately, there was a carpet involved. They helped me sop up the puddle with towels (we later hid them in the basement. Kids are good at hiding places.)

I vetoed TV, (since I hadn’t a clue as to how to turn it on let alone find an appropriate station.) And I put the radio on a symphony station, and got them drawing pictures. Pretty neat until there was no red to be found and Tommy decided to use ketchup…

Excuse me, I digress. What was I talking about? Oh yes, the babysitting. I do my best and I get away with it because I’m free. I mean really, who would charge money to take care of their own grandchildren?