I always grew up thinking I would have kids, but as I got older I decided that that would require me to become unselfish and so far that hasn’t happened. Not that I don’t like kids, I do, I used to teach kids dancing. But having them for an hour at a time is one thing, having them all the time is a whole other problem. I found this out when I took care of my nephew for six weeks.
My sister (that I can’t talk about) had recently moved to Virginia and was really busy and said she could use a “nanny” for my two year old nephew for a little while. He’s seven now. Since I can’t tell you his real name, we’ll call him “Joey.” I wasn’t working at the time and I hadn’t seen him since he was about 6 months old, so I was thrilled to spend some quality time with him. Joey’s very cute. But two year olds cover some of their cuteness with a lot of shitty behavior.
Anyway, Joey and I got along great. I played with him and taught him important things
like who the “Rolling Stones” are, and I learned who “The Wiggles” are. Most of the time, he was great, but could be a little prick too. I used to have to bribe him with chocolate milk to get him to do things. He was like a politician; one day it’s chocolate milk, the next day it’s coke and hookers.
This one day I was watching him while my sister and her husband went out for a few hours. I should tell you now that I had never changed a diaper before. I wasn’t much of a babysitter growing up and I just never had to do it. Someone more willing than me was always around. So, of course, not long after they leave he decides to poop his pants. My first thought after I got a whiff of him was, “Can it wait until they get back?” But I knew I had to do it. I panicked. All of his “cleaning” materials were upstairs and he refused to go upstairs. And I knew if I dragged him up there it would just get worse, so I had to improvise. I took off his diaper which was DISGUSTING, and put it on the floor. Then I picked him up and was holding him at arm’s length so I wouldn’t get any poop on me and I placed him in the kitchen sink. He was standing naked in the kitchen sink.
Luckily, they had one of those little sink hoses and I told him this was gonna be fun. He wasn’t sure of course, and was confused, but I told him it would be a new thing to take a shower in the kitchen and nobody else had done it before. He bought it. One thing about kids is that they’ll believe anything. Little retards. So I made sure the water a nice temperature and then I made like he was in the shower, squirting him above his head. After he was comfortable and having fun…I told him to bend over. I turned up the water pressure and hosed his ass down like a circus elephant.
It worked too, he was clean. He was a little weirded out by that, I admit it. Then, because I wanted to do a thorough job, I figured I should wash his little penis but I didn’t want to touch it because I didn’t want him having a flashback at 13 about how his aunt molested his goods. So I turned him towards me and squirted it with the hose. Of course, this got a big smile. Oops!
As he’s playing in the sink, I had to get rid of the poop diaper that’s still in the middle of the floor and stinking up the kitchen, but I didn’t know where my sister kept her plastic bags. So I’m digging through the drawers and I found plastic wrap. I was wrapping the diaper in layers of plastic when my sister walks through the door, sees Joey and says, “Why is my son standing naked in the sink?” I know I had a panicked look on my face, or maybe it was relief. I was kind of glad she was home. And yet, at the same time I wanted to hide my diaper changing debacle, but I was caught red handed. It was traumatizing for me, not to mention what it did to him. She took over.
That was the last time I changed a diaper.
He also had a little plastic shovel that he used to play with in his sand box in the yard. I used to jokingly tell him that I was gonna beat him with it. Well, this caught on. Whenever I asked him what I would do to him if he was bad, he would say, “beat me with a shovel.” And I would say, “that’s right.” It only became a problem when he said it in public a couple of times, and I was no help because I would laugh and my sister was afraid protective services would be at the door by the time we got home. When my parents came to visit he told them that I was going to beat him with a shovel. They loved it!
Now he’s almost eight and at that wiseass age so I might actually have to beat him with a real shovel. 🙂
Let me know if you need a nanny….
(Since I can’t put any pictures of him or my sister now, here is one of my sister and me at some stupid Catholic thing. Look at the “doily” on my head. Did you know that if you didn’t have your “veil” on your head at church, the nuns would make you bobby pin a tissue to your head. Do you think God gives a shit? I don’t. )