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Lost Journal
Humor Column Babysitter Could Child-care Less Journal Entry: July 9, 1980 (age 11)
Up until this summer, my 12-year-old brother, Dan, and I have had pretty
good luck with our parents’ choice of babysitters. When we were
very young, a grandmotherly woman named Daisy Cochrane watched over
several of my older brothers and me. She was the sweetest little
old lady you can imagine, and I especially loved that she would make us
grilled cheese sandwiches and cut them into funny shapes. A few
years ago, my brother John was dating a girl named Kris Kenville, and
she and her sister Karen took turns babysitting Dan and me. They
were both really nice and really pretty. We liked them A LOT.
In January, my mother returned to the workforce after a 15-year absence.
She had been an editor at IBM, and passed on a promotion to a managerial
position in order to marry my father. For her, raising six sons
made for an eventful 15 years of “not working.” Her new job is as
a legal secretary. Once Dan and I finished school for the summer,
our folks needed a full-time babysitter, despite assurances from Dan and
me that “we don’t really need one.”
So a few weeks ago, we were introduced to another girl named Chris.
Like the first Kris, she was cute. Unlike her, she wasn’t nice.
She was overly nice until she was left alone with us. Then she
mostly ignored us. This Chris was about 19 years old, and spent
most of her time talking to her boyfriend on the phone. When she
did speak to us, she was mean. Pretty quickly, Dan and I had it in
for her, and we began to wage a campaign for her removal. One day
last week, we hid from her. About an hour before Mom came home, we
disappeared. I hid behind the laundry chute in the basement, and
listened as she stomped around the house yelling our names. When
Mom came home, we both reappeared and said, truthfully, that we had been
here the whole time. Chris became meaner after that.
After an incident yesterday, our dismiss-Chris wish came true. Mom
confronted her this afternoon. “The boys tell me that you went to
Recreation Park yesterday.” With her for-the-parents smile still
painted on, Chris replied, “Yes, my boyfriend had a tennis match.”
Mom’s eyes narrowed. “But you were gone for hours when you were
supposed to be watching the boys.” Still smiling obliviously,
Chris said, “Well, I asked them if they wanted to go.”
Mom’s face flushed red, her eyes blazing for a moment. Then she
put on her own sickly sweet smile. “Well, you can watch your
boyfriend play tennis every day now, if you want, because you won’t be
working here.”
© 2011 Tim Mollen
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Copyright © 2004-2012 by Tim Mollen. All rights reserved.
Email: timATtimmollen.com