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The Nanny

Up until having Simon, I wasn’t that much into kids. I wasn’t mean or impatient with them, but I didn’t seek them out, didn’t really know what to say to or do with them, and was terrified of being alone with them. What if one cried, or fell, or did something I didn’t want him or her to? I babysat a bit when I was in middle and high school, but never for a child in diapers, and I somehow lost even those skills as the years rolled by.

Given this, no one was more surprised than I at yesterday’s events, which involved me playing with, feeding dinner to, and washing up three (3!) two year olds at one time.

Our friend Christine was busy cooking dinner in the kitchen. Ian and Matt were outside visiting with our neighbor Greg (who had dropped off Ruby for a bit so he could run an errand), and I found myself with three (3!) two year olds under my watch.

Alise has known me for two days, Ruby for two weeks, and no part of my biography would lead me to believe that these girls would quickly feel comfortable enough with me to let me take care of them. I’m just not that kind of person. Or at least, I didn’t use to be.

But there I was, dispensing stickers and crayons, “eating” dinners “cooked” by the kids, negotiating turns with toys, and otherwise entertaining three (3!) children. Then Simon got hungry, and as I sat him in his high chair, I saw Ruby and Alise look up at me with expectant, hungry eyes.

There was no cooking, of course. Christine was busy, so I scrounged dinner from the pantry and fridge, negotiated spilled drinks, dropped crackers, and a tragic grapes shortage, and then lined up three (3!) kids to stand on the kitchen stool and wash their hands.

I know people do this and much more all the time. But I haven’t, ever, and more than once I completely marveled that I was watching three (3!) kids and that none of the four of us had a fit or got hurt.

One Response to “The Nanny”

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