I Don’t Have To (Baby)Sit Through This

, , | Working | August 28, 2017

(I am babysitting a young boy for the first time. His mother has given me specific instructions about what he can and cannot eat, and at what times. He has been asking for a chocolate bar for the past half-hour, but as it is after eight, I say he isn’t allowed. It is close to nine when I hear the front door open.)

Me: “Oh, hello. I thought you were going to be back at one?”

(The mother storms up to me and screams in my face.)

Mother: “HOW DARE YOU TREAT MY BABY LIKE THAT?”

Me: “What? What have I done?”

Mother: *getting even closer and spitting on me* “HE’S BEEN PHONING ME CRYING THAT YOU WOULDN’T GIVE HIM A SINGLE PIECE OF CHOCOLATE. YOU HEARTLESS COW! HOW DARE YOU TREAT MY ANGEL LIKE THAT?”

Me: “But you told me specifically to not give him any after eight!”

(She looks at me, confused, before snarling and moving to smack me, and I brace for contact, but her husband interjects and tells her to go upstairs.)

Mother: *once at the top of the stairs* “YOU CAN THINK AGAIN IF YOU THINK YOU’RE GETTING A SINGLE PENNY OFF OF US, YOU SPITEFUL W****! GET OUT!”

(I’m really shaken, but I quickly gather my things and head for the door. Her husband stops me before I make it out.)

Husband: “I knew this was a bad idea. Every time we go out, [Son] phones us crying, and she thinks she has been too harsh and blames it all on the babysitter. Our parents won’t even look after him now. Look, here you go. I’m sorry for putting you through this.”

(He gave me an envelope and saw me out. It had double what was agreed I be paid. A few days later I told some of my friends who also babysat in the area. They all knew who I was talking about, and each had their own stories. They all called her the Weeping Angel after an alien in Doctor Who.)

Baby(sits) Well With Me

| USA | Working | July 13, 2015

(I’m interviewing with a couple to babysit their three kids. The wife has been doing all of the talking, while the husband just leans against the counter.)

Wife: *turning to her husband* “Hun, do you have any questions for her?”

Husband: *he is covered in tattoos and seems extremely laid back* “Look, I just want to know that you’re not gonna kill my kids.”

Me: “Well, I don’t have any plans to currently, but you never know. Things can change.”

Husband: *laughs* “I like you.”

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Bambi: Unrated Version

| Jacksonville, FL, USA | Right | September 4, 2013

(I am babysitting my eight-year-old neighbor. They have just recently bought a guinea pig, and I am holding him.)

Girl: “My friend Chloe has a pet bunny.”

Me: “Oh really? What’s its name?”

Girl: “Humper.”

Me: “What?!”

Girl: “Yeah, her bunny’s name is Humper!”

(I am a bit confused, but then it dawns on me.)

Me: “Um, I think you meant to say Thumper.”

Girl: “Oh! Yeah, that’s what I meant. The bunny’s name is Thumper!”

(By this point, I am cracking up.)

Girl: “What’s so funny?”

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Brace(let) Yourself For The New Generation

| OH, USA | Right | March 22, 2013

(My friends and I are running a babysitting service for Valentine’s Day. The kids we are watching range from two to nine years old. I’m sitting with the oldest kid, making bracelets with her.)

9-Year-Old Girl: “Have you seen that YouTube video X-Box Girls Get Revenge?”

(This video has a lot of cussing and sexual jokes.)

Me: “Yes, I have. I think the real question here is why have you seen it?”

9-Year-Old Girl: “What?”

Me: “That stuff is aimed at high-school and college students, not third graders.”

9-Year-Old Girl: “Well, third graders have changed.”

Me: “Oh, yeah?”

9-Year-Old Girl: “Yeah! We’re a lot more mature and independent!”

Me: “Uh… huh.”

9-Year-Old Girl: “Now, can you tie this bracelet for me, please?”

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A Stone’s Throw Away From Good Behavior

| Rochester, MI, USA | Right | March 4, 2011

(I am babysitting for a woman who refuses to leave the house. I am outside while her children are playing. She is watching us from the window.)

Me: “[Child’s name], don’t throw rocks. They’re painful.”

(When the child continues to throw the rocks at me, I take the rocks from him and put him in a time-out.)

Mother: *rushing out of the house* “Don’t punish my children! Who do you think you are?”

Me: “Ma’am, my employer requires me to give the children a time-out if they are doing anything dangerous.”

Mother: “Wait, what? I thought you were just here to play with my kids!”

Me: “Well, yes, babysitters usually do some sort of activity with the children.”

Mother: “Why would I hire a babysitter if I’m here?! Why did you come here?”

Me: “Ma’am, you called the company and asked them to send a babysitter to your house.”

Mother: “Don’t punish my children!”

(She chases me out of her yard with a duster. A few weeks later, she calls again for a babysitter. She was going to court because a neighbor’s child was hit in the head with a stone.)

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