I’m a Terrible Babysitter

We’ve established that when I was a kid, I was kind of a freak. (Seriously, who bites their stuffed animals?) But here’s something else you should know about me: I don’t like kids. In fact, I can’t stand them. You wanna know what’s worse than kids? Babies. They cry, they eat, they puke, they poop, and then they poop and cry some more. I’ve yet to see what everyone finds so endearing about these bundles of womb projectile because to me, they’re just gross (almost as gross as the term “womb projectile”). Also, they make me really uncomfortable. People are always like, “HOLD MY WOMB PROJECTILE” and I’m like, “ehhh… ok.” This is kind of a problem, because as you may know, I have six nieces and nephews.

My oldest nephew Christian was born when I was about six or so, and I’ve realized that this may be part of the reason that I’m going to give children apples or wax candies every Halloween. See, my older sister Danielle was always in the limelight, and I had grown to accept that. I guess I just figured that after you pop out four offspring, you’re about spent on your attention budget. But then womb projectile #1 came along, and everyone was all, “OMG BABY!” and I was like, “WTF?!?” So yeah, might have been harboring a bit of resentment.

This turned out to be a problem one March night when Misty (Christian’s mom and my oldest sister) was going to have Danielle and I over to spend the night. She was driving us home with Danielle in the front seat and me in the back next to the three-year-old Drool Master 3000 when we decided we were hungry. We stopped at a Sonic, because I was too young to realize that the only redeemable thing about Sonic is their drinks, and grabbed some kid’s meals. This was in the days before they had milk and bananas at fast food joints, so I got a cherry limeade and Drool Master got a Hi-C, both of which were in the standard Styrofoam cups. Misty asked nine year old me to supervise the Drool Master and make sure he didn’t throw his drink at her head or anything. I said OK.

So we’re driving down the road a while and then we start to hear the unmistakable sound of a straw being removed and reinserted into a plastic lid. It was all, “skah-week ska-week ska-week” and Misty was all, “are you watching him?” So I looked over and sure enough, Drool Master’s squeaking away at his drink, just as happy as can be. So we drove for a while with the “ska-week ska-week ska-week” all the way along, when all of the sudden the “ska-week” stopped and the Drool Master turned into Captain Waterworks.

So Misty pulled over to find that sure enough, Captain Waterworks had poked a hole in his cup and was now covered in Hi-C. Misty was like, “I TOLD YOU TO WATCH HIM” and I was like, “I did watch him!” And she went, “you watched him POKE A HOLE in his cup!” And I probably said something like, “you didn’t tell me to DO anything about it,” because yes, nine year old me was kind of an a-hole. She was really mad, and it probably didn’t help that I was cracking up. I couldn’t help it- it was like when someone loses a scoop off of their ice cream cone- you can’t help but laugh.

She’s still mad at me for it and brings it up every chance she can. And I laugh every time because I still think it’s hilarious. (Note: So does said nephew, who doesn’t remember the incident). Moral of the story: I’m a bad baby sitter. Other moral of the story: don’t ask someone who doesn’t like kids to supervise your womb projectiles.

-Valerie

Note: Though I don’t like children, I do love my nieces and nephews. I’m not a COMPLETE a-hole.

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3 Comments

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3 responses to “I’m a Terrible Babysitter

  1. Most of the story is pure fact! However, I would like to add that I actually asked you specifically to “watch Christian to MAKE SURE he didn’t poke a hole in the cup!” because it had happened before! LOL! Also left out that I was pretty broke and had to go into Walmart with him dripping HiC all over the floor and the rest of y’all to BUY him new close to wear because we were too far from home and he was freezing because you thought “watch him” meant “witness”!! ROFL! Oh those were the days! Last, you should have included that you are a great sitter now and published your phone #! I love you!

    • Crab

      BEST. Laughed my oversized posterior off!
      “HOLD MY WOMB PROJECTILE” hahaha i love my nugget, and you were ALWAYS exciting to me, let’s not get too down & out about it…pure entertainment for the other toss-aside child ;o)

  2. Planoamy

    Very reassuring! Now about those summer plans…maybe I need to find a new sitter? 🙂

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