If He's Crying Just Give Him Alcohol: Babysitters Share The Most Inappropriate Thing They Were Asked To Do.
Who knew the Babysitter's Club was actually group therapy?!
This piece is based on a Quora answer. Link on the last page.
1/9. I'm going to start by saying I'm a 19 year old guy. Being a guy means that babysitting work is very very rarely offered to me. I'll also explain I've always looked a couple years older than I am.
Anyway. We'd just moved to a new town in rural Ireland and I got part time work experience in a local school. I got to know the kids and some of their parents when chatting at the end of the day.
One boy, John, only 11 one day asked me on behalf of his mum if I did babysitting. I said usually no but if she needed help I'd help out. So eventually I met her and she asked me a specific day. I said yes. So I get there (by the way I was only 17 at the time) and the mother is just on her way out the door.
Ok the younger ones are in bed, it's just John and Sarah you have to look after
If John asks could you make a run to the shop to get him some tobacco and vodka. There's some lemonade for mix - don't worry
It turns out little John was an alcoholic. At 11. Twice later that year teachers caught him with beer in his bag and even had to call the police when he gave an 8 year old a sip of Guiness.
Turns out Johns parents used to use vodka and even whiskey to shut him up when he was loud (it was later discovered he had ADHD). So imagine if everytime your kid got hyperactive you gave him a pint or some shots. Starting at age 7.
-Ashley John Land
2/9. I knew in the first, like, minute and a half of this job that Id never be back.
I was either 12 or 13, very young. This woman called me after another lady I babysat for recommended me.
(The first woman was no delight to sit for, either. She used to count popcorn kernels into a paper bag with each childs name on it. Each kid could have no more than fifty kernels. Weird stuff.)
Anyhow. It was a very weird vibe at this house. The mom was sort of wild-eyed hostile for no apparent reason, and it was chaotic from the get-go. She had two beautiful little girls, one of whom was a young preschooler who didnt really speak.
When I first walked into the yard, the little girl saw me, toddled partway over, stooped to pick up a dead squirrel by the tail, and held it up so I could see it. (continued...)
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Without hesitation or a single word, the mom backhanded the child across the face and sent her flying. She kicked the squirrel aside, picked up the girl, smacked her on the bottom, and told me to follow her into the house.
At least one time and probably more during her instructions to me, she told me to just smack em if they did anything wrong.
Yeah, no, Im not doing that.
After she gave me my instructions, she placed a big stack of cash on the microwave. Then she turned around, pointed a finger in my face, and told me that if any was gone shed know Id stolen it.
Her husband ended up getting home before she did, and he paid me from the microwave cash before driving me home. I always wondered if she went back and saw money missing and yelled "I effing knew it!"
3/9. The craziest thing that I have been asked to do is wash a 4 year old boy. I know, it sounds childish right? But there is a reason this was so weird to me.
All my life I have only babysat little girls. I have never even held a little boy until I was 14 years old.
So when my Uncle and Aunt told me to bathe my little cousin, I honestly didnt know what to do. I kept feeling like a pedophile, and on top of that the boy liked to dance around naked which was even worse.
He finally got into the bath. I washed his face of course, and everything else. However I simply refused to wash any of his private parts, so I told him to wash "it" on his own and also get his butt too.
The problem is, the little boy didnt know how to wash his butt, and he kept missing spots. So instead of doing it for him, I just let him dry off and ignored the spots he missed, thinking it was harmless.
Later on in the night, my cousin was in bed and I was downstairs on the couch watching TV, waiting for my Uncle and Aunt to come home.
Suddenly he came down the stairs and said, Yani, Yani, my butt hurts. (continued...)
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So I say: "Well why does your butt hurt? Do you have to poo poo?"
He says, "No thats not it, I have something in it."
Me: "Well whats in your butt?"
He says, "I dont know."
"Well how do you not know what is in your butt. It's your butt."
"I dont know."
So summoning up all my courage, I take a deep breath and say: Okay, let me have a look."
He lays across my lap pulls down his pants, and I come to find out that he has a green tampon shoved all the way up his butt. He didnt even take the hard plastic cover off of it.
I flip out. WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH A TAMPON IN YOUR BUTT?!!!
And he says, "I saw mommy do it."
4/9. When I was about 13, I used to babysit for a couple from our church, who I'll call John and Jane.
They had a son who was 8 at the time, and they needed childcare for him when school was out. I had known this family from church since I was two, and was very good friends with their older son, who was my age.
One of the things I noticed early on was that they were having marital problems, which I concluded from marriage counselling papers they left on the kitchen table and countertops.
They looked like some kind of worksheet where they wrote down everything they didn't like about their spouse, and then wrote new notes periodically updating on the progress they'd made on these issues.
Their son could read, obviously, and so I could I. I tried to ignore the papers, but I'd be in the kitchen making their son a peanut butter sandwich next to a piece of paper that said John does not care about my sexual satisfaction and things like that.
So the situation was awkward enough, but then it got weirder. (continued...)
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John always got home from work before Jane, and he would usually just drive me home immediately.
One time, John arrived home as usual. He asked me to come talk to him for a minute. He said: Would you mind taking (son) out to play in the yard for a few minute before I take you home? I want to jump on the computer and whack one out before Jane gets home.
Me being so young, I just said sure and took the kid outside. Some time later, John came out and drove me home. It was one of the most awkward car rides I ever had in my life.
-Alix Weich Dahlen
5/9. It was one of my regular jobs to watch this 2-year old girl and her brother while her parents had date nights. One night, her father told me this as he and his wife left for a Super Bowl party:
Ok, so I may call you later, depending on how the team is doing. If we're doing badly, you need to put Bailey in front of the TV because she's our good luck charm. She doesn't have to watch the game or anything, but just keep her in the room for me.
I probably looked about as skeptical as I felt, because he felt the need to add:
I'm not, like, superstitious or anything. It's just that we always win when Bailey is in the room, and I don't want to jinx it.
An hour later he called me and I did indeed bring the toddler to the TV room. I muted the game while the child and I played with blocks.
The team lost.
When he got home, the father questioned if I had done as instructed, and I said I had. I don't think he believed me because I was never invited back to babysit.
6/9. When I was 17 years old, I babysat for a couple that lived about 15 minutes from our house. I enjoyed the kids, and the parents were usually on time. The dad was invariably the one who drove me home.
One evening while he was taking me home, he said something very strange: "Youre tired of all those 17 year old boys. Youre ready for a real man." It wasn't a question; he said it like it was a fact.
I answered akwardly, slowly understanding where he was going with this. The drive ended and I hurried out of the car.
The next time they asked me to babysit, I thought about it. I figured maybe I had just overreacted, so I went back. (continued...)
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That night, he and his wife were accompanied by his younger brother. Dad and younger brother drove me home afterward, with me in the passenger seat up front.
They lit a joint and handed it to me. I reluctantly partook while they began to dream up schemes to hang out with me outside of the babysitting gig.
I never went back after that. In hindsight, I can understand why the mom was always so frustrated that their sitters would never stick around
7/9. It was the early 70s and I was in college, babysitting occasionally to make a little spending money. I arrived at an apartment full of stoned people, including the parents, getting pre-high for a concert. The kids were asleep already.
They offered me a hit. At first I was gobsmacked that they wanted me to watch their kids while high. And then I thought, dummy, they probably smoke around them all the time.
Then one of them said, "So . . . you goin to the concert?"
"No. Im your babysitter."
"Oh, right on, man."
8/9. When I was 16 years old I was hired to stay the weekend to mind a sweet little girl while her father was out of town on a camping trip.
The father asked me not only to watch after his daughter but to also take care of his "dog" Koda, a North American Grey wolf weighing in at around 175 lbs and standing tall enough that his head came up to my shoulders and he could look me in the eye.
The father left Friday afternoon and I spent time brushing Koda and feeding him. I watched the little girl ride the huge animal around the yard like a pony. He did not seem to mind in the least.
My brother stopped by on Saturday morning to visit me and drop off some homework I'd forgotten at home. Koda lived in the backyard but could see inside the house through the plate-glass sliding doors. When my brother arrived, Koda charged full-speed at the glass door.
He slammed his huge body into the frame which slightly knocked it off the track, and ricocheted off the glass backwards into the grass. Then he made a second attempt to get inside, viciously pawing at the glass as if trying to dig his way through, while snarling and growling, foamy spit flying and hackles raised, baring his teeth!
Koda the dog had suddenly turned into a werewolf. (continued...)
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My brother hightailed it out of there as quickly as he possibly could and I immediately drew the drapes so Koda couldn't see inside. I was shaken to the core.
Even if I wanted to feed him, I couldn't get the door open. It was jammed. And there was no way I was going to go around the side gate in case Koda didn't recognize me in his rabid state.
Koda didn't eat for the rest of my stay. I think he skipped three meals in total. When the father got home on Sunday evening from his camping trip I explained what happened. He seemed upset his poor "dog" hadn't been fed.
"Would you mind feeding him NOW while I unload my gear from the truck?" The guy actually had the nerve to ask me that question.
Yes I DO mind feeding your wild animal I thought to myself but simply said, "YOU'RE ON YOUR OWN FROM HERE ON OUT."
He paid me, I walked home and never babysat for that little girl again.
9/9. In high school, I once babysat just one night for these strange parents who were friends of my grandmother.
The boys were both five years old, and one was adopted.
The parents told me that their biological son, David, was allowed to play Grand Theft Auto in his bedroom for as long as he wanted (well into the night) and that they had a stash of candy for just him and there were no restrictions. Yes, he was a brat.
But then the parents told me about the other 5-year-old, Josh, who they adopted a few months prior. They actually told me "hes not allowed to leave the living room, because hes adopted."
And that was their only reasoning. Their only explanation.
Because he was adopted. It was shocking and to this day I cant fathom or understand those peoples reasoning
Also, I cant imagine what else he was denied or how else his treatment was altered just because he was adopted.
Social thumb credit: Marijus Auruskevicius / Shutterstock.com
"It wasn't me!"
There's not much you can do when the righteous fist of the law comes down on you. Call it a mix-up, or call it a mistake, if someone's pegged you at the scene of a crime there's not much you can do but trust the justice system to prove you innocent. However, that's a gamble, and just because you've been given a "not guilty" doesn't mean the effects won't follow you for the rest of your life.
Reddit user, u/danbrownskin, wanted to hear about the times when it wasn't you, seriously, it was someone else, when they asked: