After about a two year break, I rejoined SitterC!ty, desperate for occasional relief from the seemingly endless weekends my husband is working this fall. I met and interviewed a few lovely potential babysitters, and though I liked them all, my girls seemed to connect really well with one college student in particular. (She was a huge Avatar fan– just like my girls.)
The sitter told me what she charged– it was very reasonable– then said that she expected three girls would be easier to watch than three boys.
I kept my mouth shut– she was a keeper and I didn’t want to dissuade her from her notion.
So this past Friday, the sitter met the girls after school and stayed with them until I returned home from the conference. I walked through the door at 5 to giggling children engaged in fast and fierce imaginary play, and a kitchen that looked cleaner than when I left it that morning.
“How’d it go?” I asked.
“Great,” the sitter said. “We had a lot of fun.”
When the girls spun away and flew up the stairs, the sitter confided in me. “It’s just like babysitting boys. Wow. Those girls are really, really active.”
The girls charged back down the stairs, sweaty with flushed cheeks. The oldest asked me point blank, “Mom, you promised you’d take us to the pool when you got back. Can we get on our bathing suits now? Can we go swimming?”
Our new sitter’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head– I could tell she couldn’t believe they’d had enough energy to swim after all the activity at home.
I still had my bag on my shoulder, my shoes on my feet. I looked at the time on my phone, and considered whether I had enough leftovers in the fridge to heat up for dinner, whether my bathing suit was clean.
I thanked our new sitter for coming and gave her a big tip. My tireless girls and I ate dinner, got dressed, and headed back out the door.
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