Dinnercraft helps bring your (and our) protracted adolescence to an end. Our authors cover topics ranging from cooking and eating, to home and garden, to crafting and DiY, and all the rest of the things you find yourself caring about these days.
WL: I was looking for a job and then I found a job…
I regret having never been a paper boy. My first job was babysitting – what a cliche – which I started when I was eleven. I was desperate for a hot pink walkman and strapped for cash so I found a gig watching the children of the receptionist at my pediatrician’s office. Just an hour or two on summer mornings seemed like an honest way to earn a buck, and their house was more or less around corner from mine, so it was a breezy commute. The older two either weren’t around much or I was a worse sitter than I recall, but the little one demanded more of my attention than I ever could have anticipated.
The Cleanest Pooper in Connecticut was how her mother introduced her and I should have known that did not bode well. I thought it was adorable that her name was Jillian – just like me! she had wispy blong hair and was a shy little girl. I’d had some experience with four year olds, as my sister had been four pretty recently and I considered myself an expert in the caprices of that demographic. I thought we’d start the day with a little coloring, maybe some hopscotch in the driveway and round out the morning with a nice episode of Sesame Street.
The first crisis of the day arose around 10 o’clock when Jillian wanted a snack. She would not accept a Kudos bar, a Fruit Roll-Up, Dunkaroos, or Munchos, any of which would have delighted me. She wanted the orange slurpy goodness that only Kraft Macaroni and Cheese could provide, and frankly, I couldn’t blame her. It’s delicious. But there wasn’t a parent or guardian around to make it, so, what was I supposed to do? Wait, she wanted me to make the mac? I was not allowed to use the stove at home…but I wasn’t at home …I was the babysitter…”Hand me a stick of butter, kid”, I said and started the water to boil.
I got a little stressed out when it came time to drain the elbows because I couldn’t find that bowl with all the tiny holes I had seen my mom use. The most logical thing to do at this juncture was clean the sink, dump the noodles right down there and then scoop them out. This method was efficient and 100% hygenic. Little Jillian never knew the difference. Trouble averted and all but I was exhaused, ready to go home and relax with a cold glass of apple juice and a good book.
Instead, I had to wipe the kid’s ass, clean up spilled milk, crayons, chalk, Polly Pockets, stuffed animals, and blocks. Oh, endless toil! I was so relieved when both our moms pulled into the driveway 45 minutes later. It had been a half day of adventure and discovery but I was ready for a break. I vowed to remain gainfully unemployed until further notice. I was not cut out for babysitting.
