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TheWeirdcrap.com

Submitted in 2004

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Notes on Baby-Sitting
by
Nils Erwin


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I HAD MY FIRST BABY-SITTING JOB THE OTHER NIGHT. It was tough assignment, 3 kids - 24-hours. The parent was a family friend, Mandy, who seemed to have adopted the absurd notion that I was the man for the job, and moreover, that I should also be paid handsomely for it. My parents don't even let me use their car, "That is a leap of faith on par with the Queen Mother loaning out the crown jewels to street thugs and asking that they please return them when they were finished admiring the craftsmanship, and quite frankly I'm not prepared to make that leap of faith." My mother would say.

Nevertheless, Mandy offered and I said, "I'll take it!" as though sealing the deal on a property and she came to pick me up from my house. On the ride over, I wanted to seem sociable, chatty, and community minded; traits which I thought a good Baby-sitter would posses, except I couldn't think of anything to say, so I just played with the sun visor and jangled the change in my pocket.

Mandy has three kids, Annie 6, Billy 9 and Rebecca 12 y.o - 2 girls and a boy. They're very nice people, and it's fun to be around them. Before leaving for overnight trip to the beach, Mandy was giving me the standard babysitter rap - the phone numbers, the medication, when to feed the dog, bedtimes etc. etc, and I really should have paid attention, but I just couldn't focus - the two middle buttons on her damn blouse were undone and I could see one slightly freckled, suntanned breast, spilling out over a cotton bra. After some lengthy disclaimers, she left and I immediately did a quick scout of my new surroundings, noting liquor coordinates, food surfeit, and the toys which I'd like to play with later. I then I get set to making dinner. I was lighting up one cooker on the stove and fiddling with the others, when Billy burst in and proclaimed: "I'm not eating fish, it smells like garbage."

"You should say fetid garbage.... fetid garbage...I love that word 'fetid'. Anyway, well don't eat it then, I don't care." He looked at me cock-eyed, I could tell he was a little peeved that I had acquiesced; he was obviously looking for a little babysitter versus kids grudge match and I was having none of it.

"Have some chips and Ice-cream, I checked before there's plenty there, that's what I'm going to have. I'm no nutritionist but I reckon' you got lots of good stuff in ice-cream - which is from cows, the scared of animal of the east. The potatoes from chips - the heart of the Russian lifestyle, well actually they mainly the use it for Vodka, did you know 40% of Russians who some sort of alcohol problem, weird eh?"

"I'm just going to eat some noodles then,"

"Alright suit yourself mate, I think I have some chips."

"Don't eat them all," He cried.

"All the snacks are for school lunches." He said in a theatrical manner. The old 'snacks are for school lunches' routine, I wasn't buying it.

"Whatever, tell Rebecca and Annie to come and set the table."


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