Babysitter of the Year

I’m not a very good babysitter.

I’m just not.

I’m impatient with them.

Baby-sitting’s just not in my blood or something.

 

I get annoyed when they knock over the towers I’m building.

“Hello!” I want to yell. “I’m immature sometimes, and, yeah, I’m building with your green and purple blocks, but, I mean, it was awesome and you destroyed it!” And then start crying.

 

And I want to scream at little kids who keep cutting the lights on and off.

“Woah, kid! Do you want to blow the lights or what? You know I’m not tall enough to reach the fuse box! I’ll have to hold you up and you’ll have to replace the light bulb and fix everything.” And make the bbbzzttt! noise when they touch the light switch.

 

Or when they start fighting with the one of the other kids I’m watching.

“All right, break it up, break it–”

Pop!

“Aaahhh! My nose! Why would you do that?”

 

I’m not going to tell you who the Demolition Crew is,

who the Strobe Light Master is,

or who The Kid Who Tried To Punch Me is.

 

Because, like I said, I’m the Best Babysitter in the World.