12 Feb Finding the Perfect Babysitter (According to My Children)
Sandy Leen finds that her idea of what constitutes a good babysitter is quite different from those of her children.
When You Don’t Have “A Regular”
The downside of living far from family and moving every couple of years or so is that we have never had a regular babysitter. Not that the kids seemed to mind. No matter who fronted up from the agency or which neighbour or friend showed up, they just took it in their stride.
But a recent and disturbing trend has recently emerged. They have developed favourites who are not always the same as mine.
The Babysitter Who Looked Like Britney
Take Holly, a pleasant-sounding 17-year-old with a bright, cheery phone manner and ‘can-do’ attitude. When I open the front door to her I am staring at someone who bears a startling resemblance to Britney Spears.
“Hello, I’m Holly,” she chirps. A strange electrical device protrudes from her right ear and I wonder if she is about to launch into a remake of a Spice Girls’ hit.
Jack breaks the awkward silence. “Does that thing in your ear hurt?”
Before I can say ‘Bed at 8 o’clock’, Holly is snuggled on the couch with seven-year-old Jack and eight-year-old Millie discussing mobile phones and navel piercing.
Lollies, Late Nights and ‘Lethal Weapon’
I run through the cursory drill of phone numbers, locked doors and bedtime. She looks vaguely at me.
“What time do you think you’ll be home?” she asks.
“It won’t be late,” I say. “Probably around 11.”
“Oh good. I’m going clubbing with my friends after this…”
All night I worry about the Britney Spears look-alike in our living room. When I return Holly is chattering into her earpiece and the kids are snoring peacefully in their own beds. Everything seems fine… until the post-babysitting interrogation the next morning.
The “Great With Kids” Teenager
Having shared my woeful story with our neighbour, she suggests sending over Tim, her eldest, next time I need someone.
Tim is going through a metrosexual stage. His hair flops over his right eye, so that talking to him is like having a conversation with a Cyclops.
From my post in the bathroom where I’m slapping on last-minute make-up, I listen to Jack showing off his new reading skills.
“P-orn star.”
“Mum, what’s a porn star?”
Smoke, Mirrors and Disappointment
When I return four hours later Tim is hurriedly shoving a packet of cigarettes into his bag. He needn’t have bothered. The haze of smoke is so thick I’m surprised the smoke alarm hasn’t gone off.
My disappointment is overwhelming. The best, most convenient babysitter to date has a fatal flaw.
When the Babysitter Is Too Old
So I swing to the other extreme. The agency sends Wendy, a delightful lady with a rather large walking stick.
The kids eye her dubiously. Millie corners me in the bathroom.
“Well,” Millie hesitates, “she’s so old. You don’t think she might die while you’re out?”
An Unexpected Turnaround
Wendy turns out to have more energy than a teenager. When we arrive home after a particularly long night out she is putting the final touches to her cross-stitch.
“And I just did that little bit of ironing you had in the laundry.”
I love Wendy. I just wish the kids would take a shine to her.
The Babysitter Crisis Meeting
It’s clear we have reached crisis point. An emergency meeting is convened to resolve the babysitter issue.
We are each allowed to state the three things we consider essential in a babysitter.
The List (And the Impossible Standard)
Half an hour later and The List has been compiled.
“Reliable, responsible, has first-aid certificate”…
“Knows good tricks, plays table tennis, likes hot chocolate”…
“Is close to our age, has long hair and make-up, likes singing and dancing”…
Things are not looking good unless Super Nanny has a serious makeover.
The Babysitter Who Has It All
To my surprise, my husband comes up with the ultimate babysitter in a mere three days.
A chance conversation leads to Abby, an early-childhood teacher who babysits to earn money to go overseas.
She’s 24, knows all the kids’ tricks, is firm but gentle, fun but not stupid and can play every game ever invented.
Please Don’t Tell Anyone
We know we’re onto a good thing when the kids bail us up after Abby’s first visit.
“Mum, you can’t tell anyone that Abby’s our babysitter.”
“Yes, ’cos she’s the best and we don’t want anyone to steal her,” explains Jack.
“Mum, when are you going out again?”
