So in the interest of keeping things honest, I have to inform you of something.
I'm not a perfect babysitter.
No really. You can pick your jaws up off the floor, because OH Y'ALL, I have a story.
A little under two months ago, Jen tweeted (sent a Twitter message, for those of you under a rock) that she needed some baby help. To this day I'm not entirely sure she was serious, but as a) she lived in my area b) I was looking for a summer job and I have a bit of experience keeping an eye on kids and c) ZOMG IT'S HER AND ZOMG HER KIDS ARE ADORABLE, I immediately tweeted back that HI I CAN HAZ NANNY JOB?
Or something like that.
We e-mailed back and forth for several days, and in that period of time I tried to be as witty and charming as possible, all the while assuring her that I was the perfect AND ONLY person for the job.
Me? Modest? Nah, baby. If DreamSchool taught me one thing, it is to SELL MYSELF. (Er. In a non-sexual way. Though if financial aid doesn't come through, I *will* be considering other options.)
But anyway--we agreed to do a trial run the Friday after I came back. Coincidentally, the kids of another favorite blogger of mine would be there that day as well, so I'd be watching Jen's baby Coco and the three other kids. No problem at all. It would only be for about two hours in the morning.
So I got there and met everyone and all was well and good. So Jen, trusting woman that she is, ran out to go shoot a session and the kids and I went out back to play.
The boys decided to jump on the trampoline (they'd been doing it earlier that morning, so I knew it was okay) while little Lucy helped me push Coco in the swings. All was going swimmingly for the first ten minutes until there was a sudden odd, unsettling silence.
I look over at the boys. They're sitting quietly on the trampoline, which was my first clue that something wasn't right.
"Y'all ok?" I called over. And got no response.
So I went over (maybe 20 feet away) to check things out. Bailey, the older boy (not Jen's), was holding his mouth, and said, "I think I broke my tooth."
And in my head, I said, "Oh shit."
Out loud, I said (in a cheery, happy, No-nothing's-wrong! voice), "Uh oh, can I see?" So he came over, opened his mouth, and sure enough: one of his bottom middle teeth was missing a good fourth of itself. And that's a permanent tooth.
In my head, I said, "Frickity-frick-frick-frick."
Out loud, I said, "Yeah, looks like you chipped it a little bit. Let's head on inside and we'll get you an ice pack, cause I bet your mouth is sore." (It ended up that we used frozen peas instead of ice. The boys were quite amused by this.)
As soon as poor Bailey--who was doing a really good job trying to remain calm--was iced up, I knew I had to call Jen and 'fess up. Tracey, Bailey's mom, was at a major job interview that day and I did NOT want to stress her out. Or have her come kill me. So I called Jen. This is what that sounded like:
Jen: "Oh crap."
Jen said she'd handle telling Bailey's mom, and that it was okay--accidents happen. The boys were playing on the trampoline when it happened. It could have happened on anyone's watch.
Long story short, the rest of the morning ended up being great--the kids were totally enamored with baby Coco, and spent most of the time entertaining her (hey, made my job a piece of cake). Tracey ended up not killing me (thank goodness), and I'm hopeful she may let me around her kids again one day. Hey, I wouldn't blame her if she didn't.
And for whatever reason, Jen hired me to become her summer nanny. I couldn't ask for a better family to work for! I love each of the kids SO much, and I really do love spending time with them.
But I'm not allowing anymore trampoline time anytime soon.