Chatter about tonight’s upcoming babysitting adventure reminded me of a particularly shambolic event in my career. (The word of the day: chaotic, disorganized or mismanaged.)
I believe I was 13 years of age and in charge of four children, the oldest being 11. Who would leave their four kids with a newly minted teenager? Someone with four kids such as these and who lived two houses away from my parents! The two youngest boys, a year apart, were little terrors. They managed to lock me out of the house, but only after we had been outside playing and after they had turned the garden hose on me. The two older kids were of no help. Well, I had enough of that. I up and walked home.
My mother sent me back in dry clothes. I continued to babysit those children for many late nights, and for $.50 an hour. However, someone got wise enough to suggest I bring my sister, a year younger than I, so at least we were a little more of a challenge for those imps. It’s amazing I even considered having children after those harrowing years of child care.
Tonight’s opportunity will erase all of those years of devilish behavior as I enjoy three little angels. The smiles, giggles and laughter are all the payment I need.