When it comes to interacting with people that are younger than me, I have always had a hard time figuring out what exactly to say or do. Not because I dislike them, but younger people are enigmas that confuse me entirely. They kind of just say and do things that baffle me and act as though it was nothing. Also, if you speak to them slightly wrong, they get mad at you, like when I would suggest not watching anymore Mr. Beast for the day in a slightly more assertive tone than usual.
So, when I was asked to babysit my younger cousins weekly over the summer, I was intimidated. I love them dearly, but how was I supposed to pretend like I knew what I was doing two days a week for three months? My sister would be with me, which I was grateful for, but still.
The first night I watched them was the first time an eight-year-old has ever tried to gaslight me. I told her it was time for bed and she hit me with “Actually, my bedtime isn’t until 8:45,” and told me her dad was lying to me when I said otherwise. So, I realized I was gonna need to grow a backbone.
My sister and I found ourselves in charge of twelve-year-old Jeff and eight-year-old Addy. Jeff, I learned very quickly, was pretty easy to deal with. I’d say something like, “Hey man, you’ve been on screens for a while, maybe you should head outside,” and he would just agree. The idea of a twelve-year-old boy being so agreeable is fucking astounding to me. I was rejoicing internally that at least one of them would be easy to deal with. Also, it’s thanks to him that I actually know how Fortnite works now, so that’s cool too.
Addy was different. She’s a very entertaining kid, but when it came to me, some meek, scrawny adult with a spine of rubber, having to tell her, a child with a will of steel and the stubbornness to match, to do anything, it was a challenge. She was also very set on following her own mental script when playing with dolls or stuffed animals. One day, we were playing with dolls and I decided mine would have a British accent. She started off trying to imitate my British accent (which she sucked at, don’t let children fool you into thinking they can do accents), which eventually turned into her disliking my British accent. She stopped me and said, “Can you not do a British accent? It’s annoying. My best friend has a British accent, so I hear it enough already,”. I agree, but she continues to do her accent. Now can someone tell me what the hell is up with that? Can someone track the logic? I’m lost, Addy, tell me why YOU, a literal child whose British accent sounds southern, can do an accent while I, someone with a beautiful and flawless British accent, am shut down like some sort of fool? Do you intend to make me look stupid?
One thing my sister and I had a hard time with getting under control is a classic sibling move: annoying each other to no end. Jeff is an expert when it comes to existing in just the right way to piss Addy off, and he knows exactly what he’s doing. “I’m not doing anything,” only works so many times, buddy. Addy would yell “JEFF!! STOP!!” progressively louder and louder to the point where sometimes I considered asking my sister to stop the car so I could sit on the side of the road and just hold my head in my hands for a while. No matter what we’d say, it wouldn’t end. Legend has it, the screams of “JEFF!!” still ring in my aching ears to this day. Perhaps I’ll never recover.
When I’d sit down at the end of the day and try to get the song “Do da Fortnite” out of my ears for a while, I’d ask myself if I was even getting better at my job. One thing I learned was that if you treat them like they’re just your buddies that you can’t curse around but also tell them what to do sometimes, they tend to be pretty okay with that. I realized that they were actually comfortable and happy to have us there when they started cracking deez nuts jokes or whatever other inappropriate jokes twelve-year-olds latch onto that their moms may not love hearing. It was a silly little thing, but to me it showed how they didn’t see us as a bore to be around. I may be the first person to overthink the significance of being told a deez nuts joke, but that’s okay. I’m just happy my sister and I were buddies to them. They were comfortable enough around us to treat us like friends sometimes, but also (sometimes) respected what we had to say. It meant a lot to me to understand that.
I could sit here and talk about the troubles I had with trying to deal with kids (which I literally already did), but I have so many more fond memories than bad ones. My stuffed animals were all renamed to something silly (my Pikachu plush was named Baseball, for example). I have a cute little house on stilts in their Minecraft world. We all went to the aquarium on my sister’s birthday. Jeff shiny hunted in my Pokémon game, but was not successful. Addy showed me all the moves she knows on the monkey bars. I got them to call my parents stupid names when they saw them (my mom was Goopy and my dad was Peepee). Having some temporary little siblings over the summer was really wonderful, even if I can’t do my British accent most times.
Have I mastered babysitting? Do I know how to handle children and all of their nonsense? I’d say much more than I thought I was going to.
