Babysitters for hire

We have the cutest neighbors ever. When they get off the bus, Marley runs to the window and they yell to her, "Hi Marley!" and she responds by banging her hands on the screen like a monkey. They are privilged children, in that they have social freedom. They are not tied to a kitchen table and made to complete homework before playing outside. The kids are constantly outside, playing in the yard and yelling through the window for Marley. We take her for walks outside, but its' hard at this age to let her play because she just eats the grass. So we have been sticking to indoor activities and caging her inside her stroller.

I usually take Marley to the mailbox with me so the kids can talk to her. Yesterday, I barely got as much as a hi when I walked out the front door.

"Marley! Marley! Look it's Marley!" clearly I am showcasing a rare, exotic animal. Immediately I am bombarded by the most astounding question ever.

"When can I babysit??" I ponder this question to myself, wondering how old I was when I started babysitting. I am pretty sure it was around the oldest girl's age, 7th grade. However, I did not start with little babies, I started with the spawns of satan, who were at least 3 years old. My mind is racing with questions of child labor laws and an acceptable form of payment.

"How much do you charge?" I asked the oldest.

"$5" she says.

"Per hour??" I have no idea what the going rate is.

"No, for the whole time," I try not to let my excitement out, but can't help wonder if I'd be taking advantage of her offer. I tell her we'll have a meeting with her union rep after she completes her babysitting course.

The conversation ends when the younger girls fight over who gets to help and finally, who gets to watch the cat. We couldn't have picked a better neighborhood.

I'm a liar

One of the new perks of living in a young neighborhood is having so many kids around. Our neighbor to the left has 4, the neighbor to the right has 3. You can continue the math down the road - the point is, there are tons of kids. And with all these kids, comes school fundraisers. This is something I failed to think about as the start of school approached.

Last night, while making dinner, the doorbell rang. I thought it was one of our friend's kids, but it was an unknown. Immediately my head is swirling with profain word I'd like to spew, but decide not to scare her away. What are they selling now.

"Hi there, how are you?" I ask, like I'm the one selling something.

"Good" says the 9 year old. That's your strategy? Make me do the work?

"Are you selling something?" I'm literally talking to a wall here.

"I'm selling magazine subscriptions and renewals"

"You know what? A little boy beat you to the punch - I bought some from him yesterday, sorry"

I felt awful saying no to her because I know how hard it was when my mom made me go door to door doing that crap. However, she dressed me 4 years younger than my age and we always found pig tails added to the cuteness, especially since I was so short growing up. We made a conscious effort to create key marketing techniques. I knew which houses contained the old people (from either no candy handouts during trick-or-treat or getting yelled at to not trample on their lawn) so we stayed away. We even went as far as developing catch phrases depending on the age of the homeowner.

"Hi there, we're selling delicious fat free candy bars, would you like to help our school raise money for a new playground by buying one?"

"My name is Mandy and I'm selling wrapping paper for new computers at school. Will you help our literacy movement?"
"Go tell your mom you need a dollar for yummy suckers!"

Some people even gave us money without even taking anything in return. It was genius. Never did we go soliciting without a game plan. This girl desperately needed our help, but I did not overstep like a crazy stage mom. I could see her mom standing on the sidewalk, giving me a dirty look ("buy my daughter's magazines NOW"). Although she was cute, her shyness and non agressive selling nature would by far earn her a "you're fired" from Donald. Since I couldn't outright tell her no, I did what any mature adult would do. I lied straight faced to a 9 year old girl. Hey, whatever helps you sleep at night?