I am NOT a babysitter...

Actually, if anyone knew me at all, they wouldn’t want me watching their children in the first place. I’m the girl who offered up the idea of getting a stripper when asked “what do you get a kid for their birthday party if it’s held late at night?”

Hey why not? A kid has got to learn somehow…

So anyway, in reference to my previous post, “are they paying you enough to make my job a living hell?” I can’t seem to get enough from the crazy lady at my job. Oh wait, let me rephrase that. I can’t get away from the crazy old hag, who is sucking the life out of me with her fangs at this very moment. I’m waiting for a tornado to come and drop a house on this wench of a woman. I want to watch her toes curl up and laugh an evil muah-ha-ha-ha-ha laugh.

A friend asked me the other day if I was getting along with the old hag.
"She actually isn’t that bad now,” I replied.

I must have spoke too soon, because she is bad, very bad. She proved it today. Working with her is like sharing a cubicle with my mother. Actually I would rather share a cubicle with my mother than work with this crazy old bat.

So if I haven’t mentioned it before, the shriveled old hag is a family therapist. Go figure. She has families that come in for sessions and often times the parent(s) leave their kids out in the lobby. I don’t know, for me to watch? And it's not that I don’t mind kids. I’ve even worked with kids before, offering up my services to be a nanny or camp counselor. However, the lobby is not a daycare center and I am not here to be the designated adult to tend to these children.

There are two types of children, by the way. There are the cute annoying children. Annoying because they’re cute and it is hard to tell them “no”. Or there are the ugly annoying children. Who are annoying because they are not cute. Today some really cute annoying children came into the office, three of them, all under the age of 8. And the crazy old hag left me with them for 45 minutes!

The kid who stood out the most was a little girl about four years old.

“Hi! My name is Hailey. What’s your name?” she said as she peered over my desk in her neon green overalls and pigtails. She was cute, until the second thing out of her mouth was, “uh oh, I have to go potty.”

Uh oh is right. Um ok. Little girl you are officially not cute anymore. I took her to the bathroom where she seemed very distracted by the set up of the room.

“Is this a boys bathroom?” she said. “It looks like a boy bathroom.”

“No,” I said as I unhooked her overalls.

“Should I be doing this?” I thought to myself. “Does she know how to do this?”

After her pants were down she started trying to take off her shirt.

“No,” I said. “Honey, just take your panties down and sit down.”

She was spacey, but pretty obedient, because she did as she was told. I went back to my desk thinking I had did my part and the worst was over, but oh no. I came back into the lobby to find four sets of eyes watching me very intently.

“ I want to color,” said the other little girl about seven or so.

“We don’t have stuff to color with here,” I replied.

“I’m thirsty,” she replied back. I got her some water and that’s when the one-year-old boy chimed in.

“Thirty too, thirty too, thirty too, thirty too,” he repeated over and over again.

“Don’t give him any,” said the seven-year-old. “He can’t hold the cup by himself.”

So being the good receptionist that I am, I tilted the cup into the “thirty” boys mouth.

I handed the kids some books to read, but that lasted about two minutes.

"Mommy?" said the one-year-old.

"Your mom will be out in a minute," I said.

"Mommy!" he yelled.

Great, just great. By now about 20 minutes had passed since I had left the four-year-old in the bathroom. I was just about to send her sister to go check up on her when a sing-song voice echoed through the office halls.

“I’m done! I’m done! You can wipe me now!”

It was right about that time I decided to go on my lunch break...