When Friday morning finally came around, I woke up, got dressed in my regular outfit of jeans, t-shirt and my converse sneakers. Since my mom and dad were very much into the ’80’s music, (and they went to a lot of concerts back in the days of B.C. – before children), Ian and I were brought up listening to the 80’s kind of music and actually liked it. I also inherited many of their t-shirts and hats that they acquired at these concerts. So, whenever I didn't know what to wear (and usually it was everyday), I just reached in my closet and threw on one of the many cool concert t-shirts that mom and dad had given me. Ian didn't like them very much. He said they were too dated and that he didn't want to be a walking advertisement for the many has-been bands. On the other hand, I thought they were very cool! So more for me!

I plugged in my Ipod and took my crazy dog Prissy for our daily walk. Ian and Johnny would call her S.A.N.D, (Special Attention Needs Dog). Prissy is old, a little crazy, farts all the time, has a lazy eye, bad breath and has a habit of licking the bare floor for no reason at all. But Prissy has been with us since my brother and I were around 2 years old. That makes her almost 14 years old in human years, 98 years in dog years! We love her as part of the family.        

I’ve made it a habit of taking Prissy for daily walks because it makes her happy and it helps me to keep some unwanted weight off. When I walk Prissy, she loves to stop and sniff other dogs poop. Why is that? I’ve always wondered why is it that dogs sniff other dog’s poop. Do they sniff and detect other dogs complete DNA, their breed, gender, height, color, age, if they up-chuck after they eat then eat their own vomit, or chase fast cars going down the street? What is it?

When we got back home, the house was filled with the aroma of oatmeal simmering on the stove. My mom was a very experimental cook, but she outdid herself when it came to breakfast. The oatmeal was cinnamon based with walnuts, raisins and a hint of honey. It was a time of day that the family would always eat together . . . and we did.                                     

Anyway, time to go to work! Ah yes, the American Dream, to be independently employed. I'm going to make some serious bucks this summer.  So, I arrived at the Bells' house and rang the doorbell. It played 'No place like home.’ Yuk. 

"Hiiiiiiiii!" shrieked Mrs. Bells. "Come on in Lina!"

"Good morning Mrs. Bells, it's Nina,” I corrected her. “ I thought Mr. Bells told me you were out of town.”

"Actually, I have to leave in a few minutes,” Mrs. Bells responded. “I need to visit my offices in Morris County, and will be gone until tomorrow. So, Mr. Bells asked you to watch our little angels, so that he could get some work done. Is that okay, Fina?”

          "It's Nina,” I said. “Oh, that’s fine.” Then, all of a sudden, Mrs. Bells toke out a spray can and started. . . Ssssssssssssssss. She sprayed me down with an anti-disinfectant. 

"Sorry, it’s just that I like to make sure no unwanted germs come into the house,” she said. “The children are very delicate you know.” No, I didn't know.

           "Anywho,” Mrs. Bells said, “here is a list of all the foods they cannot have, TV shows that they can watch, and just some extra basic things you need to know. Okay now, tata, see you later.” And she is gone. Mrs. Bells is one fast talking-hyper lady.

So I went into the family room, and peeking from a combination office-playroom is Mr. Bells. Wow! So the one place you need peace and quiet to get some work done, is the same room that your children will be going in and out of to get their toys? Genius. 

"Hi, Nina," said Mr. Bells. Oh good, there’s someone in the family that knows my name.

“Good morning, Mr. Bells,” I say politely.

"Ready for a day of fun and games," he said in a kind of half serious half funny tone.

    "Yes sir," I answered enthusiastically.

        "Well, I see Mrs. Bells gave you ‘The List’. . . okay then, I'll see you later bye, bye then.”

        Mr. Bells didn't walk out of the house...he ran!

 "Mr. Bells, I thought you were going to be here with me today!" I shouted. No use, he was peeling rubber half way down the street all ready. 

          Okey dokey. This can’t be too hard? I am 4 times older than they are. I know more. . . I think. I have a broader understanding of everything. And I'm bigger, faster, and stronger... I guess.  And with that thought, my ears were ready to POP!! The TV was up so loud, I was afraid the windows and every piece of glass in the house would shatter! And to make matters worse, The Doodle Bops where on the tube. Mind you, I have nothing against Educational Television for children, which I grew up watching. Programs like Sesame Street, Eureka’s Castle, Mr. Rogers Neighborhood, School House Rock, and Bugs Bunny were highly watched over my house. (Hey, Bugs Bunny was very educational. It taught me all I know about classical music and how to be a wise-guy.) But these 3 persons all dressed in bright neon colors were doing nothing but doodling and bopping, nothing really educational about them, just annoying. But the kids love them! And my ears were ready to Poooooooop! 

          "Erick, turn that dooooown!!" I shouted. They didn’t pay any attention to me, they just continued  jumping up and down, dancing and wiggling about. 

          "Erick, can you turn-that-down. . . please!!" There, I said the magic word, please. Now it will work. No, nothing. So I thought I would take control of the situation, I walked over to the TV set and tried to turn down the volume myself. 

Great, they had about 5 controllers on the coffee table, all laughing at me. “Ha, ha, ha, ah, the babysitter doesn’t know which controller controls the volume…dumb chick!”

So I picked them up one by one and started to press button. Maybe this one is it...no. Okay, it has to be this one because it has the name of the TV on it. . . no. Maybe this thinner one is the controller to the speakers . . . heck NO!!! OMG!! What am I going to have to do, pull the plug on the TV?  I look behind the TV to pull the plug, and what I saw were 100 wires with 100 cables and 100 different power strips.

"Erick, what am I going to have to do for you to TURN THAT DOWN!" And in an instant, the sound was gone. All I saw on the TV were 3 adults, dressed in orange, green, red and blue (their face and hair in just about the same colors), jumping around to absolutely no music. Erick was standing in front of me with a controller in his hand and a grin on his face And as fast as that moment came, the little turd turned the volume up again, dropped the controller and ran. 

I immediately picked up the controller he dropped, pressed the ‘mute’ button, then I went to chase down my suspect. He was running into his room; a safe sanctuary he probably thought.  He was closing the door in my face when I stuck my foot in the door to hold it open.  He may be faster and younger than me, but one thing he forgot. . . I’m bigger and stronger. So I pushed my way through the door and into the room. There he was, in the corner playing with his little cars, as if absolutely nothing had happened. I picked him up by his shirt and locked him in his closet. But when I turned around, with a smug smile on my face, thinking that I was going to show him, I realized giving him a time out in his room was like unleashing a kid in his own Disney World without limits. I sighed and figure then the closet was the best thing to give him a time out. At least the house will be quieter. I had no other choice in the matter, the boy disobeyed me! Just please don't tell anyone.  Oh, he’ll cried, but I won’t be able to hear him. . . still had blood coming out of my ears. 

          I came back to the living room were Kaleen, the 2 year old, was sitting in her tea party table and chair set, playing with her imaginary friends. Everything was quiet since I turned the TV off before hunting my prey. Just the way I like it. Kaleen was sitting at her little tea party table as happy as could be, making believe she was pouring tea in the cups of Mr. Bear, Mrs. Giraffe and baby elephant. Hmmmm, maybe she’s the one I have to buddy up too. So I went over to her table and sat on the floor crossed legged next to Mr. Bear and said with a sotto British accent, “I would also like a spot of tea, please.” I sat there on the floor with my hands folded in front of me on the small table like a nice proper English person having her tea and crumpets in the early afternoon with 3 animals and a princess. The little girl scowled at me and said with her little girl lisp, “Get out of the way, your disthurben Mr. Bear’th thpot!”

So I looked at her with a puckered face and stuck my tongue out at her. She turned her head and made a “hum” sound then looked at me again and stuck hers tongue out, except hers was purple. Probably the lollipop she couldn’t have but ate it anyway. Retched little child.

She obviously wanted to play alone, and that was fine by me. Play time creates imagination and independence, I tried to convince myself. So I took that bit of down time to read the list Mrs. Bells had left me. Four pages long, divided in 6 sections, with 36 bullet points and a lot of sub points. This is not a list, it's a Congressional Bill.

There was a note attached to the bill that read:

“The first thing I would like to say is - Thank you so much for taking care of my darlings. They are the most precious things in the world to me and Erick Sr.”

          Right, that’s why you’re letting a 15 year old girl who has no experience with children take care of them, because I was cheaper than a daycare center. 

          And it continued: “We only want the best of everything for them, so we do hope that you are totally committed in providing the best loving, caring, safe environment for them, just the way we would.”  

          I could see Mrs. Bells as she was writing the note, with tears running down her cheeks. Okay, that first paragraph would even make Attila the Hun feel bad about the kids. So, I did the right thing and went over to the closet to take Erick out. As I entered the room, I noticed on his door there was a big sign that said “Enter at your own risk, Erick sleeps here.” Very cute. Then as I continued in his room I realized that all around his room was his name in every form you can imagine. On pillows, towels, cups, shoes, shirts, books, lamp shades, even a picture frame on the wall that gave the definition and the history behind his name: Scandinavian for “Honorable Ruler,” more like “Horrible Fooler.”  I guess Mr. and Mrs. Bells really wanted Erick to know his name or this kid suffers from a terrible case of amnesia. I snapped out of my noisiness and I heard “voooooooom” and “whishwhishwhish.” The noise was coming from inside his closet. When I walked in the closet, Erick was tucked away in the back. Figures, the closet was a walk in-closet almost as big as my room. It had lights inside and it was filled with toys and games. So there was Erick playing with a Hot Wheel set he had all assembled in the back of the closet. The kid was virtually having his own little party in there, all this while I was out here beating myself up and feeling sorry for him. So, I did the right thing again. . . I closed the closet door and walked away. 

     When Mr. Bells finally returned home, we were in the family room watching one of the “approved TV shows” on Mrs. Bells’ list. 

"Hey, Nina," said Mr. Bells. "How was everything?”

       "Fine, just fine, Mr. Bells," I said as the two children laid on the couch, Kaleen fast asleep and Erick half way comatose ready to go down.

      “You tired them out it seems,” he said.

      “Yeah, it seems that way, doesn’t it,” I said between my teeth. I just took Erick Jr. out of the closet no more than 15 minutes ago. Thank goodness children have an amazing ability to forget quickly and forgive even quicker.