"The Baby Sitter"

November 13, 2009
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She had blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She was the cheerleader type and let’s just say, she wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. She drove a little red Corvette that daddy bought her for her Sweet 16. Kind of an air head, but very likeable. So, needless to say, she’s probably not the person you would choose to watch your kids, right? Well, unfortunately for you, this chick babysits!



It’s a Saturday night, and Mr. and Mrs. Smith are going out for the night. Guess who they call?! She is coming over at 5:30. The neighborhood is something like you would see on television, white house, picket fence, you know the deal. It’s a perfect place where everyone knows everything about everybody. The kids are three and seven. The girl (7) was a tomboy, into that whole Tony Hawk, skateboarding thing. The boy (3) was very sweet and caring.



It’s 5:30. The doorbell rings and in walks Miss Congeniality, wearing this pink long sleeve shirt and the shortest jean skirt you’ve ever seen. First General Reaction: Aren’t you watching children?! Yeah, Mr. and Mrs. Smith were thinking the same thing. They put a list on the table of all the emergency numbers, the dance club they are going out to, what time they should be home around, doctors’ numbers, and all the kids’ personal information.



“Okay Claire, do you have any concerns about tonight?” asks Mrs. Smith.



“No Mrs. Smith, it’s totally cool. I like, know how to do CPR and stuff,” replies Claire all ditzy.



“Okay,” says Mr. Smith all skeptically. “Just remember, do not answer the door for anyone. The kids should be put into bed by 8 o’clock. We should be home around one…”



“Or later...” interrupts Mrs. Smith. “Whatever, feel free to eat what you want and here is twenty bucks if you want to order out.”



“Thanks so much! Don’t worry; I’ll take care of these children like they were my own.”



The kids exchange a glance like, “What the hell is wrong with this lady?!” Mr. and Mrs. Smith leave and tell the children that they love them and that they won’t be long. Claire makes the kids mac’ n cheese, Scooby Doo shapes, (but it’s really soupy because somebody - a.k.a the blonde bimbo - put too much milk in it.) the kids eat most of it while watching their cartoons, but the rest of it goes onto the floor for their Chocolate Labrador to get at.



“Don’t tell Claire we are giving food to Lucky.” says Portia.



“Okay,” Jack replies very innocently.



“Alright kids!” Claire chants while clapping her hands. She’s really showing these kids her cheer caption abilities with all of her peppiness. “It’s time for bed!”



“But it’s only seven thirty…” whines Portia.



“I know, but if you guys go to bed now and get ready, I’ll tell your parents you were super good! And then they will probably like, get you a gift… or something.”



“Alright!” shrills Jack in excitement. “Let’s go Porch!”



The kids are in bed, and as expected, Claire is on the couch with the phone already glued to her ear (probably one of her cheerleader friends). She’s eating a bowl of popcorn.



“Oh my God!” (Of course we can’t hear the voice on the other end, so this is all we get out of it.) “No way! I can’t believe he would do that to her…Mhm…Yeah, I know right? That was SUPER rude!” Too bad Claire can’t pay this much attention to the kids.



After an hour in his room, Jack decides to go into the living room.



“Claire, I’m HUNGRY!” Since Claire is so engrossed with the phone conversation, Jack asks about 5 more times until he gets a response.



“Yes!” answers Claire finally. “Get whatever you want, but Jack, please be QUIET!”



His bedtime snack for the night is jolly ranchers… yum.



Still on the phone, Claire makes it obvious that she has failed at her ability to babysit, because who in the world would leave a 3-year-old along with hard candy as a snack?! Moments later, Portia comes running in.



“Um…Jack isn’t feeling so well…”



“What!” shrieks Claire. “Listen Mary, I’ve got to call you back, okay? Bye girl.”

Jack’s face is as blue as the jolly rancher that is lodged in this throat.



“Oh my God!” Claire starts to smack Jack’s back then starts to perform CPR. “Portia call your parents this instant!”



She does. Then this blue, huge candy comes out of Jack. It must have been lodged in there pretty good because he was gasping for air. In walk Mr. and Mrs. Smith fifteen minutes later. Portia ratted on Claire on how she wasn’t watching them and was on the phone the whole time.



Basically, after all the flipping out is done by Mr. Smith, Mrs. Smith chimes in. Claire leave without any pay. She is told that everyone in the town will know how irresponsible she had been, and they don’t want to see her around for a long time. They will be calling her parents and I bet Daddy will that that Hot Rod away for a little bit. I knew it wasn’t a good idea to have this chick watch children.





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